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deathbecomesthem · 3 months

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Crawling to the Finish | Part 1 of 4 | 2.6K

I am queuing up all 4 parts of this story, and they will all be released throughout the week on the dates that are indicated on the Materlist. This story is already completed, and I do not intend to revisit it for editing. My emotional labor on this one has already been done.

Warnings: There will be lots of descriptions of medical stuff. The reader is physically disabled due to an undefined accident. Major bone trauma. Lots of talk about pain. Later parts are going to have smut, because disabled people have sex like everyone else.

Summary: You have to go back to school while still recovering from surgery. Principal Higgins is determined to make you as comfortable as possible, so he assigns someone to help you get around.

A/N: The physical disability described in this series are my own. The experiences are very close to what my own. Be kind.

This one goes out to CJ - you helped me carry my books my junior and senior years of high school because you got to leave class early. You were a real one.

The crutches rubbed the skin of your armpits raw. You’d tried everything. Your mom has sewn pieces of flannel over the arm rests to try to make it more comfortable. It didn’t matter. The only solution was to give it time, let your skin grow tougher. These crutches would be your best friends for the foreseeable future.

The immediate concern after your initial recovery was getting you back to “normal” life. That meant school. The thought of trying to wade through the crowds at Hawkins High while balancing on your crutches was enough to send you into a fury. It was so unfair. Your parents and the administration were determined to make it work.

You would be allowed to leave your classes 5 minutes early, working your way through empty hallways. You could carry your backpack to your classes, despite the rule about keeping them in lockers. You can’t imagine trying to rest your tender hip on the cold desks that could be found in every classroom, but Principal Higgins has a solution for that. One that you’ve promised yourself you’ll never use.

“I’m not sitting on a donut.” Your mom has tried to show you how much more comfortable you would be sitting on a donut designed for hemorrhoid pain. “I’d rather die. I’ll deal with the pain.”

Dealing with the pain was something you always did. You learned early on that complaining about it wouldn’t make it lessen, it just made the people around you make sympathetic noises that set you on edge.

Being on edge is your new normal. Everything set you off. You took everything personally. If someone was overly nice to you, you took it as an insult. Everyone wanted to help, but you wanted to do it yourself. You were so tired of people using you to make themselves feel better. “Oh, I helped that poor cripple girl today when she was struggling with the door. Aren’t I special?”

So, you taught yourself how to do everything – with adjustments. Because you didn’t want to miss out on more than you had to. You gained stamina. You once crutched 3 miles with a group of friends to watch a fireworks display. It almost killed you, and you couldn’t lift your arms the following day, but you did it. And you watched those fireworks with your head rested in your boyfriend’s lap. He never asked if you were ok. He never suggested that maybe he should have stayed back with you and watched them from the back of his truck. So, you did it, and you hid the pain.

It only reinforced the idea that you had to be better at pretending to be fine when that same boyfriend cheated on you while you were in the hospital recovering from surgery last year. You had insisted he not miss junior prom because of you, insisted he take your friend. Megan was one of your best friends, and she was more than happy to do it. You didn’t know that they’d been secretly fucking for months.

Your brain knew that he was a dick, and that what he did was fucking awful. You also knew that you were a burden to everyone around you. Of course he wanted out, but how do you break up with a cripple without being an asshole? The answer was that you didn’t. But that was last year, and this year you didn’t have to worry about boys and friends. You just had to worry about making it to graduation. Fuck the rest of it. You would crawl onto that stage if you had to.

The first morning back to school after the most recent surgery came halfway through your senior year, 3 weeks after having your sixth major hip repair surgery. The previous five were failures. This is a last-ditch effort with a new surgeon. As soon as you turned 18, you left the pediatric orthopedic surgeon you’d been seeing for the last 5 years – he was one of the best in the country – to see someone new. Someone that wouldn’t attach the expectations of pediatric care with your treatment plan anymore. You need a life, and you’ve already lost so much time.

When you saw the new doctor, he looked at your images and said, “this is a mess.” One 6-inch rod attached to your thigh bone and at least 8 pins holding the failed hip fusion in place. His treatment plan was, “let’s take it all out and see what happens.” He promised if you gave it a full 6 weeks to see what happens, he’d do a full replacement. He’d give you your life back.

So, you let him have his little experiment with you. You let your parents hope for some miracle, let them ask their church friends to pray for you. You give your doctor the agreed upon 6 weeks to ”see what happens”, and then he’ll take that diseased bone out of your body and replace it with metal, plastic, and ceramic.

Today is the day you crutch your ass back into high school and try to have a normal day. Completing course work at home has been a breeze, but the district is determined to not be labeled as unfriendly to disabled people, so you’re here now. The first three periods are ok, it’s English, Algebra, and a typing class. Painful, but bearable. The fourth class of the day, American History, started with a bang.

Mr. Willis is a short man with a perpetually annoyed expression. He is known for openly mocking his female students. His room smelled of onions, and his short sleeved white button up shirts always sported yellow-green armpit stains. The onion smell was always worse when he moved around the room, his arms lifted high in the air to get a point across.

The class starts, as all classes do, with a roll call. Perfectly reasonable, nothing out of the ordinary until he reaches your name.

“Y/N – you’re gracing us with your presence today?” His eyes are glaring at you from behind his desk. “That’s a shame.” He stands and walks over to you, his stench trailing behind him, “I need you to go to Vice Principal Brobeck’s office immediately.” He has a disciplinary slip already filled out in his hand.

“What?” You can’t help your tone; it’s confused and annoyed. How could you possibly be in trouble when it’s been weeks since you last sat at this desk.

“Your truancy needs to be addressed by the administration. A string of unexcused absences. Go!” He barks out the last, finger pointing to the door, and you can’t help but scoff at him.

“Uh, fine, I’ll go. Can I ask you, though, are you blind?” You wave your crutches at him while trying to maneuver and get your backpack over your shoulders. “I had surgery.”

He prattles on about your tone and lack of respect to your back as you crutch your way down the long hallway to the administrative offices for the school. You were exhausted already, and adding another trip around the school with your heavy backpack left you feeling angry. You could feel hot tears of frustration burning behind your eyes while you stumble a little at the office door.

The secretary has you take a seat in one of the soft cushion chairs in the entryway, which is a small mercy for your sore hip. Someone is sitting next to you, but you barely register his presence in your current state of distress and pain.

“Uh, what the hell did you do to get sent down to the office?” His voice is playful with you, but you’re not in the mood to engage with anyone.

“My existence in this building is enough, apparently.”

Before he can manage a response, the Vice Principal’s door opens, and he calls your name. The boy in the chair next to you tries to help with your bag, but you just snatch it out of his hands and throw it over your shoulders before crutching into the inner office.

“So, Mr. Willis says you’ve been truant. Do you have an explanation?” You can tell by his glassy eyes that he’s just going through the motions without actually taking in the situation sitting right in front of his face.

“I’m sorry, are you serious right now?” This gets his attention. You can practically see smoke coming out of his ears at your attitude, until he really takes a look at you. The crutches, the obvious pain in your face. “I’ve been out for 3 weeks because I had surgery. I’m back because Principal Higgins insisted the school could accommodate my needs. Call my parents if you want.”

He has your mother on the phone in an instant. You imagine her sitting at the kitchen table just waiting for a call from the school, which is probably exactly what she’s been doing. She’s devoted years to your recovery. As soon as Mr. Brobeck says the word “truant”, you can hear her yelling through the phone line, demanding to speak to Principal Higgins. So it goes.

The boy is still sitting in a chair waiting for whatever punishment is coming for him when you exit the office with both principals at your heels. Higgins is falling all over himself apologizing, promising you’ll have no more problems with Mr. Willis when he spots Eddie.

“Munson, you want to get out of detention?” Your eyes are drawn back to the boy, finally taking him in fully. He’s shaggy haired, wearing leather and denim with big rings adorning his hands. A metalhead. In Hawkins.

“Uh, yes sir.” He’s standing wearing an open face, ready to accept any terms that are offered to him. Your assumption is that most of the staff at the school would use any excuse to give him detention or get him expelled.

“Y/N is going to need someone to help her get from class to class,” You start to protest, but Higgins speaks over you, “how do you feel about taking on that responsibility? You’ll have to leave your classes a few minutes early and make sure she can get around the school without a problem.”

“Of course. If that’s ok with her.” He looks to you. You have no choice but to agree, how can you say no with him looking at you like that? His eyes pleading.

So, it was decided. Eddie Munson, the problem child of Hawkins, would escort you between classes. The assumption from Higgins is that you’ll be happier with a little errand boy helping you, but this boy likes to talk.

“So, what’s with the sticks?” He’s sitting with you while you wait for the hallways to clear before heading to your next class. Would it be rude to tell him to leave me alone?

“It’s complicated. I had surgery a few weeks ago. I’ll probably have another one in a few weeks.” It’s all you can offer.

“Woah, that sucks. Are you new? I don’t know if I’ve ever seen you here before.”

“Not new. I’ve lived in Hawkins forever.” You could explain that you’ve been in and out of school for the last few years due to your accident and subsequent surgeries, but you don’t have the strength. It also bores you to think about having that conversation with someone new.

“Really? How have I never seen you before?” He’s trying to be friendly. Don’t be a dick to him.

“I don’t know, maybe you’re just not very perceptive.” It’s a low blow, but he laughs at it, which is promising. “Listen, I’m really drained. Can we just sit here?”

“Yeah, no problem. Sorry.” He looks genuinely apologetic, but something about this interaction is different than what you’re used to. He’s not looking at you like you’re broken. He’s talking to you with interest, not pseudo sympathy.

“It’s ok. Ask me questions another time.” You let your head lean back against the wall and try to block out the noise in the room, and the pain zipping down your leg. This last surgery was a short one, but it left you drained. You feel loose, like your body is coming apart without the metal holding you together. You think it must be in your head, and remind yourself that you only need to get through a few weeks of this. It’s nothing, a few weeks is nothing.

You and Eddie have lunch together at his regular lunch table, which you agreed to because he promised his friends would leave you alone if he told them to. And they did, mostly, even though you got a lot of side eyes. Especially from the younger ones. You could see them practically vibrating with the need to talk to you. Especially the one in the hat. You can tell he’s gonna go for it before his mouth even opens.

“So, Eddie tells us he’s helping you get around for your classes.” The kid is being casual, and it’s so endearing, you can’t even be mad. A pretzel hits the kid in the face, Eddie looks like he’s ready to leap over the table and strangle him.

“Down boy, it’s ok.” You give him a little smile, so he knows you’re not mad. “Yes, Eddie’s helping me so he can get out of detention. It works out.” You give the kid the best smile you can manage, which you’re sure looks weak on your blood drained face.

The boy nods a little and says, “That’s a sweet deal for him, though, isn’t it? He gets to leave classes early and he gets out of detention.” Another pretzel is lobbed at the kid’s face, and now you’re giggling.

“You’re definitely right, I’m not sure what I’m getting out of it.”

“Can I ask –“ before the words come out of his mouth, Eddie is walking over to put his arm around the boy’s shoulder.

“Dustin, what did we talk about?” Dustin, you’ll remember that.

“You said that you had a friend joining us and we had to leave her alone. But –“ Eddie tightens his grip, but Dustin persists, “BUT, I just want her to know that as a fellow disabled person, she can talk to me! Ok, I’m done now.”

The rest of the lunch period goes by without any incidents, but Dustin does slide over half of his oatmeal cookie to you at one point with a giant grin on his face. You mouth a little “thanks” and give him a weak smile.

Eddie gets you to and from the last few classes of the day, and even walks you out to your car after your last class. As the day goes on you, you decide to accept his help with as much grace as you can. Especially because the situation is actually helping him too. It makes it easier to swallow. Less like pity.

“Well, I’ll see you in the morning, Ilene.” His delivery of the joke is lame, and you let it hang in the air for a minute, letting him squirm. “You get it? Ilene?”

“Yeah, I get it Eddie.” You let your face fall, casting your eyes to the floor of your car. “That’s really insensitive. Maybe I should tell Principal Higgins to get me a new errand boy.” You’re trying to bite back the smirk his lame joke is threatening to bring to your mouth.

“I’m sorry, I thought it was funny –“

You’re giggling at his panic, “Eddie, that joke was so lame, it offended me. Do better. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

#eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x disabled!reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson angst #eddie munson smut #eddie munson stranger things #disability in fanfiction

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with-my-calamitous-love · 1 month

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LOSS OF MY LIFE

chuuya x reader

chuuya questions his humanity while you’re on your deathbed.

heavy angst, themes of suicide, loss, and suffering

a/n: mourning someone you never thought would leave is the worst kind of pain. this one is very self indulgent and has a lot of my feelings poured into it

a/n: TTPD ALBUM OF THE YEARR

he wished he never knew you.

at least then, he wouldn’t have the feeling of knowing you, knowing every part of you, but not having you around.

it all happened so fast. one wrong mission. one wrong move. one wrong mistake that should’ve landed on chuuya- but costed you everything. he should have seen the attack coming, but he didn’t. why didn’t he? the one time chuuya nakahara fucked up, it fucked you over instead.

it should have been me. he thought.

he’s lost track of time. he knows he has work to return to, stacks of paper on his desk. his stomach growls and his throat is parched for water. his eyes yearn to close, wanting to sleep. but he can’t. you’re not there to keep him company in his otherwise barren office. you’re not there to share the meal with him and scold him about staying hydrated. you’re not there to be wrapped up in his arms, fully trusting you while you sleep together. because you’re here. on the hospital bed, tubes attached to you keeping you alive.

the beeps of your heart monitor was merely white noise to him now. the doctors told him to hope for the best, but prepare for the worst. you were hit in one to many fatal areas. you lost almost too much blood. you might not recover. you might not wake up.

but she has too. he thought.

spending a year with someone does a lot to a person. chuuya had loved before you, but never like this. he had never promised so much for someone, felt his heart beat the way it did for you. you and him promised marriage, a family, you two promised forever.

chuuya nakahara was a man of the mafia.

and that meant he knew death better than anyone.

in his line of work, losing people meant hoping that death is kinder than life. he didn’t have the time to grieve, he could only wish them peace in slumber and fortify his heart. he had been through it, possibly preparing himself for worse and worse each time.

but nothing could have prepared him for this.

chuuya could feel his being overfill with grief. he had given so much love to you. so much time, so many promises, so many kisses, embraces, late nights and forevers to you. he’d given you every fibre of his mortal being because fuck, he loved you. and he had never felt a love like yours- and he didn’t want to try and feel anyone else’s because it would never feel like yours. his grief was just love with nowhere to go.

you were an anchor to chuuya’s humanity, something that kept him in place throughout all the pain and suffering of his life. he thought he would love you forever. but right now chuuya wished he could forget. forget the life you two almost had. the wedding you almost had. the kids you almost raised. the life that was so close he could graze it with his fingertips right before the rug was pulled out from underneath him. it was either he had it all with you, or didn’t know you at all. not the in between. not the purgatory. not the almost.

“i’ll love you for the rest of my life.” he hears you say in the tone of voice he adored.

he wasn’t sure what he would do if that life ended too short. no, not when you were supposed to be forever.

he would rather tear down the world than lose you. he’d tear the roots of the world into pieces, collapse buildings upon buildings and set everything in his sight ablaze. he’d burn down everything, everyone and anything that dared his grief. and in the end he’d cause massive waves to erupt from the ocean floors, washing over all who inhabits the planet, making sure no one would return from the seas unbiased fate.

i’d do it. he bargains in his mind, pleading to anyone out there who may hear his call. he was never the faithful type, but seeing you barely hold onto your life made him desperate. maybe arahabaki would hear him, maybe the universe would. i’d do it for her. just bring her back. bring her back to me.

he held your wired hand, a knot in his chest forming feeling how cold you were. it felt like death was already trying to take you away from him, and chuuta wasn’t having it.

he wanted to speak, to call out to you. he wanted to beg you to wake up, remind you that he’s still here. remind you that you still have a life to live. a life with him.

he opened his mouth, but nothing cane out.

he wasn’t just losing you. he was losing his life.

and he felt all of it escape his eyes and roll down his cheeks.

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sl-newsie · 5 months

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American Woman (Thomas Shelby x American OC) Ch. 1: Stuck

Birmingham, England, 1919

Much like America, it is an empire of industry. Giant factories tower over the slums and shacks, with drunks, thieves, and whores alike all sulking in the shadows. Smoke and ash cloud the sky and block out what little sun there is, as well as fill everyone’s lungs with foul air. With sparks flying everywhere it’s a miracle nothing catches fire. The gloomy and dreadful atmosphere is enough to make anyone faint, vomit, or lose hope altogether.

But I’ve got something these folks do not.

I am an American.

While that may not be astonishing to some, to me it means that I’m independent, as well as rambunctious and a bit of a rebel even for my culture. My family always says I’m too rash and stubborn, and that it will diminish any chance of me finding a husband and settling down for a proper life. But I’m in no mood to marry, so sue me for actually enjoying my life.

However, at the moment I seem to be in a bit of a pickle. You see, I don’t travel much. Yes there’s the occasional trip out of state, but never in a million years did I think I’d ever go to England. Of all places, my family chose to vacation in Manchester, England. Don’t get me wrong, it’s a beautiful country with gorgeous countryside views and polite accents… that is until you reach the deep city. Then it gets bustling and dangerous, which is how I came to be where I am now. We decided to travel by train, stopping in Birmingham on the way to London before we headed home. Lord knows why I decided to stray away and get a better look at the intriguing shops, but after an hour of desperately searching for my family it finally sunk in that I was, quite frankly, alone. Talk about a dumb-headed move on my part. I passed back and forth through the train station for hours as night fell, growing more and more worried about what kinds of danger Small Heath, Birmingham has hiding in the darkness.

Right now, people are giving me mixed looks of pity, confusion, and judgment. I know I’m not much to look at, with my messy blonde hair stuffed under a simple hat and my slim figure dressed in a gray dress with black heels. I probably look much richer than I really am, which makes my fear of criminals spike even more.

“Might I help you, young lady?” A sinister voice calls out.

He's a drunk, I’m sure of it. A man in a ragged overcoat staggers over, and he’s reeking of alcohol.

“No, I’m waiting for someone. Please leave me alone.”

“Oh, no. You’re all alone? Perfect…” He licks his lips and starts reaching his hand out-!

“Back off! She’s with me.”

I look over and see an older man wearing a trenchcoat and bowler hat. He’s got a simple mustache, is smoking a pipe, and carrying a briefcase. Is he a cop?

“Says who, old man?” The drunk slurs.

But instead of answering, the man slugs the drunk in the nose and ushers him off. When he turns back to me the bowler hat man extends a hand to shake.

“Excuse me, miss. I’m Inspector Chester Campbell. Who might you be?”

“I- I’m Verena, Verena Steenstra.”

“Pleasure to meet you, Verena. I’m here for private matters, sent by Churchill on account of a BSA munitions robbery. I am here to weed out prime suspects and possibly recover some stolen items that belong to the Crown. You wouldn’t happen to know an Arthur or Thomas Shelby, would you?”

I shake my head. “Sorry, can’t say I have. I’m new to these parts, just having arrived from America yesterday.”

He nods. “Well it’s best if you don’t, miss. They’re ruthless, the lot of them. Gangsters, bookmakers, racketeers. The gang they’re part of call themselves the Peaky Blinders. You best be getting indoors instead of wandering these dreadful streets at this hour.”

When Campbell sees my uneasy expression he frowns. “You do have a place to stay, right?”

“Actually sir, I was… left here by mistake. My family left hours ago and I’ve been here ever since.”

Campbell’s eyes soften a little. “I’m sorry to hear that, miss. If I knew the area I’d find you an inn or hotel, so the most I can do is guide you to the desk clerk in the train station.” He gestures for me to follow him and leads me over to the back desk, where a middle-aged lady is typing. “Hello, would you happen to know where this young lady might find any lodgings?”

The lady gives me a once-over and tilts her head. “Maybe ask Harry at the Garrison. That’s a local pub nearby. You can’t miss it. Just ask for Harry.”

We thank her and head back outside, where it’s starting to get dark.

“I’m sorry to leave you here, but I’ve got my own appointments to attend.” Campbell grips his briefcase and waves to signal a passing cab. “You’ll be alright?”

I try to give a convincing nod. “Yeah, as good as I can I guess. Good luck with your investigation.”

“Best of luck to you too, miss. You’ll need it if you want to survive this wicked city.”

And with that, the inspector climbs into the cab and is driven off. Leaving me, once again, alone. But at least this time I have an idea of where to go and what to do. I tightly grip my small suitcase and begin walking down the bustling streets, trying my best to ignore the… less than Christian crowd that hovers around.

“God does not care if you live in a slum or in a mansion!”

A man’s voice draws my attention, and I look to find the source coming from down the street. He sounds Jamaican, and seems to be a minister of sorts.

“God does not care if you are rich or you are poor!”

I approach slowly, not wanting to interrupt. “Excuse me, sir? Where would I go to find the Garrison?”

The man frowns at me, confused. “What’s a lass like you doing in this part of town? Don’t you know it’s dangerous?”

“I understand that. I’m looking to find a place to stay, so I’ll ask again. Where can I find the Garrison?”

The man looks at me as if I’ve signed my own death note, then points to the building down the street. “There. But God be with you if you want to persevere with what kind of men go in there.”

I thank him and walk towards the building. It’s definitely a pub, because there’s drunk men staggering out and vomiting everywhere.

“Look out!” Someone shouts.

Without warning, a small person plows into me and sends us tumbling into the dust.

“Dear God, what on Earth…?” I gather myself up and get a look at the person, or should I say kid. He’s a young boy with a conservative haircut, wearing dark pants, a white shirt, and gray vest. One might say he dresses just as professional as any stockbroker.

“I’m sorry!” He says in a worried manner and looks as if I’m about to slap him. “I didn’t mean to, I swear!”

I gotta say, seeing this boy speak in an English accent is downright cute!

I kneel down to seem less intimidating and hold out a hand. “Hey hey, it’s alright, kid. It was an accident. I’m not gonna hurt you.”

He nods and shakes my hand, now looking at me differently. “You sound different.”

“I’m American, from New York. Now what was it you were running from?”

“Oh, right!” He points to the alley he just ran from. “I’m playing hide-and-seek with my aunt.”

I frown. “And you’re out here, in the dark, at this time of night? It may not be my place to say, but you should probably go back inside. Where’s your aunt now?”

“I don’t know.”

“Well that’s not going to get us anywhere. You got a name?”

He smiles and nods eagerly. “I’m Finn, Finn Shelby. I’m 10 going on 11!”

“Wow, that’s old! So Finn, how about you head inside with me and we can find a way of contacting your aunt? That sound alright?”

“Finn! We were looking for you!” A man comes walking up, wearing dark clothes and a cap. When he sees me next to Finn, the man’s eyes darken. “Who are you?”

I ignore his question and look at Finn. “Do you know him?”

“Yeah, he’s my brother John.”

Now I know that I can trust this man. “I’m nobody. Just a lost tourist who’s looking out for Finn.”

The man looks confused. “Why? You don’t know him.”

“That doesn’t matter. I’d look out for him as if he was my own child because no kid should be wandering around at this time of night.”

He scoffs. “What are you, some nun or midwife? Doesn’t matter. Come on, Finn.” John takes the boy’s hand and starts walking away.

“Nice to meet you!” Finn calls before they’re out of sight.

“Goodbye!”

Now to get back to the task at hand. While being as inconspicuous as possible, I sneak past the gruff men and enter the strangely quiet bar. I gotta say, it’s surprisingly clean. Compared to the filthy world outside you’d think the king himself would eat here. But I know better. I can tell this place has seen its fair share of violence, but I give credit to the barman for keeping it spiffy. Gruff and sketchy-looking Brits sit scattered all over the room. Murmured conversations ghost around the room, confirming that this is yet another place I shouldn’t be at. A few turn their heads, but seem uninterested… for now. I hold my suitcase close and discreetly make my way to where the barman is standing.

“You don’t know me, but the desk clerk at the train station said to ask for someone named Harry.”

The barman, just like everyone else, seems to think I’m a fish out of water. “I’m Harry. What do you want?”

“She said you could tell me where to find a place to stay. I’ll pay what I can, I swear. I just need somewhere to sleep until I can find a way to get back to America.”

His face changes. “America? You mean you’re stuck here?”

“For the time, yes.”

First Harry goes to say something but then seems to look over at someone behind me. This changes his demeanor and he gestures for me to sit.

“Can I get you anything?”

I shake my head. “I don’t drink.”

“I do,” a woman’s voice says behind me.

A dark-haired woman wearing a gray suit sits up next to me, her face being shielded by a hat.

Harry nods respectfully at the woman and pours a shot of whiskey. “On the house, Polly.”

She gladly takes the glass and downs it, looking at me with calculating eyes.

“Name’s Polly, love. Polly Gray.”

“You seem to be a woman who knows what she’s doing, and how to conduct authority,” I reply.

“And you seem to be a woman who has nowhere to go. Am I right, love?”

I look away and become more interested in staring at the table. “Yes, ma’am. I’m currently homeless, jobless, penniless, and on the verge of hopeless.” I look back up. “But I’ve got a song in my heart and a gleam in my eye, so that’s all I can do for now.”

Polly laughs and twirls the shot glass in her hand. “Well a song and dance isn’t going to take you far, love. It’s best if you come with me.” She stands back up and starts pulling her coat back on.

My thoughts freeze. Did I hear that right? This person, this complete stranger who has no inkling of who I am, wants me to go with them? Where? And what for? Inspector Campbell said to be careful.

“Wait- what? What do you mean?”

Polly walks to the door, unfazed by my questions. “I saw you interacting with Finn. You treat him as both a child and an adult, which is something I respect. You’re not too sour but still know when to show a firm grip. I’d like to hire you as his tutor. He needs help studying, as well as someone to make sure he doesn’t shoot his eye out.”

My jaw drops. “Shoot his… But how-?”

“Don’t ask. I have to deal with the most ridiculous idiots this side of England, you have no idea!” She scoffs as I follow her back into the inky night. “The fact is that I need a tutor, and you need a roof over your head. So, do you want the job or not?”

I try to form words but all that comes out is a babbling mess. My thoughts are fried! What reason do I have to even trust this Polly character?

“You’re conflicted,” Polly states plainly. “I can understand why.”

“Yes! Because- because I’m alone! I- I have no one to help, but everyone says I can’t trust anyone here, and then you happen to be passing by… I don’t know what to make of it!”

Polly puts a hand on my shoulder. “Love, one of the things I always go by is my faith. If fate had it so you would be here to help Finn and get my attention, then God has spoken. My trust is not so easily won over, so I suggest you consider this chance very seriously.”

She’s right. Everything’s led to this. Besides, she’s right. I need a job.

“Yes, I accept your kind offer.” I hold out a hand and we shake. “Thank you, Mrs. Gray.”

“I may be your employer but there’s no need for that formality. Polly’s fine, love. And yours?”

“Verena Nora Steenstra,” my name flies right off the tongue.

“That’s Dutch, I’d imagine?”

I nod. “Yes, after my great grandmother. My father’s Dutch, my mother’s Irish.”

“Ah yes, you Americans and your mixed heritages.”

She doesn’t seem upset by it, and I’m glad she doesn’t inquire further. My family isn’t cruel, but we’re not exactly the most wanted people in New York. My uncle on my mother’s side is part of the Irish mob in Brooklyn, so our reputation is a bit strict.

Polly leads me through the dark streets and people seem to be aware not to test her. Crowds scatter away to let us pass, not even daring to meet her eye.

“You have authority here?”

“Of sorts. People know better not to start a quarrel. Here we are.”

The house itself is simple-looking on the outside, something I admire. Polly opens the door and shows me inside, which displays a traditional cross hung in the hallway. I follow her past a kitchen and into a small room near the back, one containing a simple bed and vanity as well as a single window.

“Bathtub’s down the hall. I’ll leave you here to settle in, I trust the lads will guide you through the house. Now if you’ll excuse me, I must attend a family meeting. Finn’s around here somewhere if you wish to chat.”

I set my suitcase on the bed and look at Polly with sincere gratitude. “Thank you so much. You really saved me from a tight pickle, and I promise I will do everything I can to repay you.”

Polly smiles and, to my uttermost surprise, comes over to give me a hug. “No problem, love. You seem like a decent girl, even if you are American.” She snickers and goes to walk out, then turns to say: “One more thing: when you meet Thomas, just know he’s a bit rough around the edges.”

I squint in bafflement. “Thomas? Who’s-?”

But she exits before I can finish. So just to be clear: Now I need to teach a boy from a family I just met and am expecting to meet someone who’s ‘rough around the edges.’ Yay?

#peaky blinders #peaky blinder fanfic #peaky blinder imagine #peaky fucking blinders #peaky fookin blinders #thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby #tommy shelby #polly gray #arthur shelby #john shelby #finn shelby #grace burgess

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medusas-musings · 9 months

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Coffee's for (Elevator) Closers

(A/N) First fanfic on Tumblr! If you have any requests for one shots, feel free to message me, I'll come out with a list of what I write for soon! Also Gif not mine 🖤

As I walk down the crowded and unforgiving streets of New York, I curse myself for not leaving 5 minutes earlier to get this coffee run in time for the shoot today. My shoes barely graze the street as I do my best to push through the crowd and reach the building we’re supposed to film in today. I stop in front of the skyscraper, and I double check the address before turning around to use my back to push through the doors and feel the weather change from the cold streets of Staten to the warmth of a heater. My lungs take a breather as I stop in front of the double elevators with a socially acceptable distance from the only other person also waiting for a lift. I find less anxiety clouding my mind now that there’s someone else most likely getting to set as late as I am. I take a glance to my side to notice that it’s one of the guys starring in today’s shoot. My knowledge on the show and who they were was very limited; If I never got a job as an assistant, I would’ve never even heard his name, nevermind seeing him in person. The doors shift to open and I see him look up from his phone, and gesture it forward in a motion applying the gentleman’s value of “ladies first”. I give a nod and a small smile in return and I assume that’ll be the most of our conversation as I enter the elevator and put my back as firmly as I can to the rail. Normally, I would be gripping both hands onto whatever I can stabilize myself in whatever way possible, trying to stifle the irrational fear in my head. The least I can say is that moving to a big city can certainly become exposure therapy for a fear of heights and elevators.

However, it turns out my worst fears would only become realized as I suddenly jolted forward, doing my best to recover my balance and spill the least amount of coffee possible. My pulse quickens as I can’t feel the inertia of moving up or down gives me, which only strengthens my fear worse. A curse escapes my lips, as I put the trays of drinks into a corner and go over to the panel, pressing any button I can. While I want to believe one of these will be the magic answer to getting out of this hellbox, but I was then gently set me aside to accept the fact we were stuck by the man I shared the space with. “Here, hon, I got this.” He murmured, then hit a button with a phone icon above it, one I thought I’d never have a use for it. Even in the state I was in, I didn’t let how attractive the simple gesture was. In a moment, another voice came through the speaker, and the shaggy-haired man explained the situation to them; it’s as if he wasn’t freaked out but I couldn’t help but feel my hands shake and my breathing quicken.

“You alright, sweetheart?” He said, making sure his tone was tender. I looked up, remembering his name–Well, nickname–Q. Seeing him on set, he seemed so much more intimidating to talk to, so unapproachable. Right now though, I could tell he was doing everything he could to keep the young woman in front of him from having a breakdown. “Don’t worry, I used to be a firefighter, you’re in good hands. Just breathe” His deep brown eyes pierced into mine, making me have to keep my gaze to my shoes half the time he was calming me down. I caught a glimpse of his chest raising and did my best to mimic the rhythm, my lungs filling with stale elevator air.

My heart can’t stop beating regardless of how much calmer I felt in the predicament we were in. What set in for me was the fact that this was the man I not only worked under, but I would catch glances at while I ran around him, like a small treat to my workday. I couldn’t deny that this was a guy I had a bit of a “workplace crush” on, but I didn’t think I would ever be so close to him, let alone being alone together. My brain finally registers a comprehensive thought in my daze of anxiety, and I turn around and kneel in front of the coffees, scanning the orders until I pull out a plain black I hand over to Q. “Here,” I say. “At least someone should be able to get their drink on time.” I continue, hoping to bring a little less tension to…well, everything.

He gives me a chuckle as he takes the cup from me, our hands grazing just barely. Even in that small moment, I could feel how small my hand felt next to his. “I appreciate the speedy delivery, Miss…”

I tell him my name, filling in the gap of his sentence. “I’m one of y’all’s assistants today. Shit, I’m gonna get chewed out for getting there so late.”

“You’ll be alright, Sweetheart, I won’t let ya get in any trouble.” Q reassures me. The comfort he’s supplying me as well as the slight display of power both send a shiver down my spine. “All I want you to worry about is keeping calm, alright?” His eyes keep mine in such a gentle glance. I can’t help myself when I feel the heat in my cheeks rise.

“Thanks.” There’s a pause in the air as I let out a small chuckle. “I really didn’t expect to talk to you more than just getting your lunch order later.” I grasp at anything I can grasp for a conversation. Hell, if I’m gonna be stuck in a closed place with my attractive boss, I’m gonna make the most of the opportunity.

Q took a swig of his coffee before a slight smirk crept onto his face. “Well, I guess it’s one way to meet the cute coworker.”

My brows furrowed and my mouth became agape, as if I was going to say something but nothing came out. After my brain finishes rebooting from the shock. “Is this a way to get my mind off being stuck in an elevator?” I ask, a slight smile occurring on my face. It doesn’t feel like a real thing that happened, as if this was some nightmare turned lucid dream.

“A little.” he shrugs, taking another drink of his coffee. “But it’s not a lie. I’ve seen you around, I’ve been meaning to find a way to introduce myself. But when I finally get a break, you’re usually busy so…” Q trails off as he keeps his eye contact. It was astonishing how honest he could be with me without a hint of fear. You couldn’t pry information like that out of me if you tried. “Well, guess the universe helped you out.” I brush my hair out of my face, trying to mimic his levels of confidence. “So tell me, if you ever did have a chance to talk to me, what was the game plan?” Q lets out a hearty chuckle. “You realize 90% of the show is excuses to talk to strangers? The actual excuse to approach you would be easy. Like the coffee.” Q pointed to the tray. “I could make up some bullshit about saying my coffee tasted wrong then go with you to replace it. Probably buy you something too as a thank you.” My eyebrows raise, an amused smile spreading on my face.

“Impressive, I can tell you're a professional.” I say. “If we’re being honest here, I also thought you’re kinda cute too. I just figured it wouldn’t be anything…” I trail off, searching for the right words. “… realistic?”

“If I’m being honest, I have caught you staring once or twice. It’s the only reason I would lay it on so heavy.” I looked down with a smile on my face, slightly embarrassed, but enjoying the teasing words.

Before I could reply, we could hear a commotion on the other side of the door; the technician was here to help, prying the doors open with a crowbar. As we get out, I take my coffee trays from the elevator. “Hey.” I turn around to see Q standing over me. “Let me help you with that.” He takes the second tray from my hands, allowing me to feel so much more stable. I thank him and we go up a flight of stairs together, making small talk as he holds each door open for me. We get to set, and we place the coffees onto the table. No one bothers to fuss about coffee being late since Q walked in with me, a shield for any higher ups to take their drink instead of nagging me.

Before I could walk away to check what else I have to do, Q gently grabs my shoulder to get my attention. He has his phone in his hand, pointed towards me on a ‘new contact’ page. “Hey, I’d love to get your number, maybe plan something that isn’t in a 5 by 5 square foot box.” Q’s eyes look nervous while his smirk tries to give off the impression he’s as cool as a cucumber. Biting my bottom lip to keep myself from smiling like an idiot, I take the phone from his hands. I put my number and name into his phone, but I can’t resist putting a green heart and an elevator emoji next to my name as a little inside joke. I give the phone back to him and he smiles at the name I used. “Thanks, I’ll see you around” Q concludes, waving to me with his phone in his hands before joining his co-stars.

I smile as I walk away, and I feel my phone buzz with a notification.

(New Number): Nice to meet you! And be your hero from that elevator encounter ;)

I quickly add the new number to my phone, knowing this isn’t a number I want to lose anytime soon. I may have to take the stairs for the rest of my life now, but at least I got to score a date with my hot boss.

#impractical jokers #brian quinn #brian quinn x reader #Brian Quinn x reader one shot #fluff #fanfiction #fanfic #Impractical Jokers fanfiction #Reader insert #Brian Quinn x you #Brian Quinn/you

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startrekfangirl2233-writes · 4 months

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A Clean Slate

Chapter Twelve of Sweet Home Alabama

Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin x OC (Linley Mitchell/Floyd), Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw x OC (Linley Mitchell/Floyd)

Description: After Bradley leaves you at the field, you feel adrift. Everything hurts, and in more ways than you'd ever thought possible. It seems like your life encounters disaster after disaster the more time you spend in Pigeon Creek. Is it any wonder that you jump for the chance at recovering the life you've got when Bradley shows up at your house again?

Themes: love, attraction, angst, sex, cheating, lying

Warnings: Carole being, Carole. She's a warning in and of herself!

Word Count: 4028

A/N: Here we see the aftermath of Bradley's time in Pigeon Creek. Linley's really not feeling great about Bradley anymore. This chapter is where we start to see it. I'm sorry this chapter is late!

AO3: Cross-posted here!

Wattpad: Cross-posted here!

My Masterlist

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Your heart feels like it’s shattered into a billion pieces as you find your dad and let him take you home. There’s no way you’re going back to New York today. You feel like you should stay away from the city and lick your wounds in peace a while longer. Carole will be all up in your face, and so will the press, you’re sure, the moment you set foot in your apartment. There’s so much you’ll have to do now. Apologize to Bradley and Carole, return the ring to him, and possibly draft a statement for the press. It makes your stomach roil and your head ache thinking about it.

“Hey, kiddo, I’m making a batch of that plum jam you love so much. Do you want a jar to take back home with you?”

You don’t respond. You’re draped over the sofa with a wet rag over your face. A part of you is hoping it will fix all of your problems like it’s fixing your migraine. But they don’t go away. Right now, you have two problems you need to solve. The problem between your dad and Bradley, and the problems between you and Bradley.

“Yeah, I’ll take a jar.” You sit upright with a sigh, letting the rag fall into your arms.

“Dad?”

“Hmm?”

“What happened between you and the Bradshaws?” You start pacing back and forth in your living room, one, two, three, four steps, about turn, repeat.

“It’s not an easy story to hear. It’s not an easy story to tell. Before I say a word, I need you to know. I wanted to protect you from the man I was when I was in the Navy. I regret so many of my actions during that time. The only thing I don’t is having you.” He sounds exhausted, but you have to know.

You sob a little. “Please, daddy. I have to know. I love Bradley. I’m marrying him. I want him to be my family. I want him to be your family, too.”

For several moments, it is quiet between the two of you, only the sharp snick of your dad’s knife cutting through ripe plums punctuating the silence.

“This all happened in 1986, only a few months before I met your mom. Goose was my best friend in the whole world. I met him on my first rotation aboard ship when I joined the Navy. I’ve told you about my dad, right, kiddo? About how he was considered MIA in Vietnam?” You nod, because you are more than aware. “They used to haze me, beat me up, blame me for every problem. I learned pretty quickly after joining the Navy to never trust another soul. There’d be nobody who could look out for me like I could look out f0r myself. I went through RIO after RIO. Nobody wanted to work with a traitor’s kid. Until I met Goose. Goose protected me from those in my squadron who considered Duke Mitchell’s kid to be as traitorous as his father.”

Your dad sniffles and it’s all you can do to keep from sobbing in concert.

“He was my best friend, my family. We spent every leave together, took liberty together, caused mischief together. When he met Carole, I thought everything would change. But I hadn’t lost my brother. I’d gained a sister instead. I was the best man at their wedding. I wanted to scream from the rooftops when they told me they were expecting. I would have done anything for Goose and Carole. When they put Bradley in my arms at the hospital and told me I was his godfather, I would have done anything for him too.”

“When Bradley was two years old, Goose and I were called to Top Gun.” He hums gently, pulling another plum from the colossal stack and cutting into it. He doesn’t waste a single drop of the sweet juice.

“We were cocky. We thought we were the best of the best. But so did everyone else there. It was hard. We fought for our place in the rankings every day. Family day came and went, bringing Carole and Bradley to North Island.” He has a sad smile on his face as he methodically cuts up plum after plum. “Goose was so happy to see them. We took them out on the town, showed them around North Island. We did everything to make their visit the happiest. Then Hop 31 happened. I flew through your Uncle Ice’s jetwash, we went into a flat spin, and the engines failed. We had to eject. The canopy didn’t eject fully and since Goose pulled his ejector first, he hit the canopy. It severely compacted his spine.”

“The Navy had to discharge him honorably on medical grounds. There was an investigation afterward, one in which I was cleared. But after nearly losing Goose, I never wanted to fly again. So I left the Navy. I went to New York a few times after the accident to see Goose and Carole and Bradley. But it wasn’t the same. Goose and I were the same, but Carole? Carole looked at me with hatred in her eyes. By hurting Goose, I destroyed all of the hopes she had in expanding her family. She always wanted to give Bradley little brothers and sisters. My third or fourth time in New York, she told me never to come back again. She said it was hurting Goose too much to see me walking around when he’d never be able to again. So I never went back to New York. I never saw my brother again.”

You wrap your arms around your dad, relishing in the scent of his cologne, motor oil and fragrant plum juice.

“Thank you for telling me, Dad.” He grins, a crooked upturning of his lips.

That answers the question of the problems between your Dad and Bradley. You believe your dad. You also believe Bradley. His leaving New York and never coming back hurt them both - it probably hurt Goose too. You’re sure you can get the men to talk to each other in the coming months and years. But you know your romantic problems are not so easy to resolve. You did lie to your fiancé for months, hiding the most integral parts of yourself from him. Now he’s angry, and honestly, so are you. If only you hadn’t come back to Pigeon Creek. You could have told Bradley the truth in New York and taken his help to get Jake to sign the papers after all. Visions of Sheriff Garcia and officers from the Greeneville Police Department forcing Jake to sign the papers float through your imagination. But you didn’t tell Bradley earlier. Now you have to fix this problem and shove whatever it is you feel for Jake into the box where it’s been languishing for the past seven years.

“I know you’re thinkin’ that I spoiled things good this time, Dad.” Your voice is subdued, mind turning in circles at the thought of every relationship you’ve destroyed in your life - Jake, your dad, Penny, Amelia, and now Bradley.

“Oh, hon, don’t go accusin’ me of thinkin’.” His laugh rings out through the small kitchen. “I ain’t done anything of the sort.”

“Anyways, kiddo, spoiled’s in the eye of the beholder…” You stand at the counter so you can see the peace on his face as he carefully breaks down the plum in his hand. “Like these plums here. Some people might call them spoiled, but I think that these almost-ruined ones make the sweetest jam.”

It’s true. This jam is your favorite thing to have on toast, pancakes, or stirred into oatmeal. Hell, you’ve even made tea with a spoonful of the flavorful preserves and hot water.

“Do you need any help?” The grin that transforms your father’s face is enough to chase some of your thoughts away.

The quiet, methodical work settles something in your soul. You’ve always enjoyed working with your hands, and making jam seems to settle the frantic rush in your soul just as much as sewing does. You’re just bottling the jam up when there’s a knock on the door.

“I’ll go see who it is, kiddo. You keep bottling the jam.” You’re not expecting the silence when the door opens, though. Nor are you expecting the continuing silence as your unexpected visitor walks through the door.

“Hi.” Your shock must show on your face because Bradley’s quick to take your hands in his. You’re wearing an apron, and there’s a streak of sticky-sweet jam on your cheek, but he’s looking at you like he’s still in love with you. Should you be feeling hopeful now? Maybe not, but you are hopeful despite all indicators to the contrary.

“Hi. I thought you’d be halfway to New York by now.”

“So did I.”

“So why are you here, Bradley?” You need to know why he’s here. As much as you may hope that he’s here to reconcile, to tell you he forgives you, a part of you isn’t sure you can believe it until you hear it.

“I wanted to know if I’m still your fiancé, Lin, well… that is … if you’ll still have me. I really don’t care what happened down here.” He’s so clearly not looking at your dad as he says the words.

“So... you have a past. I mean, who doesn't? What I need to know is if there is a place for me in your future.” You’re frozen. There’s a part of you that isn’t sure if he’s genuine or not, but when he opens his arms to you, you melt into his embrace anyway.

“Honey, you’ve got jam on your cheek!” His smile is sweet as he brushes it away with the pad of his thumb and licks it off. “It’s as sweet as you are.”

“So, we’re heading up to New York City, huh?” Your dad’s careful question pops the bubble you’re in, the one fueled by mad hope and love.

“Well, Mav, my mom’s the mayor, and she has her heart set on a New York wedding.” At least his tone is outwardly polite.

“I guess I can take off work for your wedding, kiddo.” You smile at your dad, grinning at him. But something about the big New York wedding Bradley had mentioned doesn’t feel right to you anymore.

“Bradley?” At his hum, you continue. “ I, um... actually, I was thinking, maybe we could have the wedding here?”

“Here?”

“In my hometown.”

“Look, Lin, if it’s the cost you’re worrying about, don’t.” It’s a little weird that money is what he’s worrying about. You may live a bit more frugally than Bradley does, but you have money. If you have to pay for a part of a New York wedding, you’re sure you can swing it.

“It’s not the money, Bradley. It’s never about the money down here.” It’s really not. There are bonds amongst the people - the community - in Pigeon Creek that you’ve never felt in New York. You have people you love in New York, sure. But you have so many people you love in Pigeon Creek, too. It doesn’t feel right celebrating without Dorothy, Mickey, Penny, Amelia, and all your old friends anymore.

There’s a smirk on his face as he grins down at you. “You know,” His town is secretive, brimming with barely concealed joy. “A lot of people are expecting us to get married in the city. But, I think a nice, quiet country wedding is just the ticket.”

“Mav, if you could cover the rehearsal dinner, I’d really like to take care of the rest?” Your heart soars at hearing the obvious olive branch Bradley’s giving your dad.

“I think I can cover that. After all, how many times does your only daughter get married?” Your fledgling smile falls at those words from your dad’s mouth. “Other than before, kiddo.”

New York City - Mayor’s Office

“What do you mean she’s Mav’s daughter, Bradley?” Of all of the information Bradley’s given his mother since he landed back in New York with Linley an hour ago, that’s the piece of information that she’s fixating on. He’s trailing behind her as she marches through her office like she’s on a warpath. “And then there’s the fact that she has a history with the police in Pigeon Creek?”

“She was never convicted, Mom.”

“Oh-ho! I don’t know which is worse: that she’s a child cat killer, that her dad’s a part of the sons of the Confederacy or that her dad is Maverick Fucking Mitchell.”

Bradley can’t tell which is worse either. As of now the fact that she's a Mitchell is trumping everything else. “What would you suggest I do, Mom? Dump her for being poor? Or hell, because her dad is who he is? Didn’t somebody say something about the sins of the father not applying to their children?”

Bradley walks towards the small lounge area where his mom likes to take interviews from her office. She always maintains that this particular location showcases all of her best sides. “You’re supposed to be a Democrat, remember?” He sits down on the sofa as he asks her that question.

“There is nothing wrong with being poor.” His mom’s eyes flash as she stares him down. “I get elected by poor people. And I’m a big enough person to commend her for making something of herself.”

She sits down next to him, and it’s been so long since Bradley’s seen her as a mother that he forgot how comforting her perfume smells. “What upsets me is that she lied to you.”

To her credit, the great Carole Bradshaw does indeed look like she’s worried. Worried about Bradley, for Bradley. Though Bradley would bet that her true worry is over the nosedive her polling numbers are going to take once they find out that Bradley’s marrying a nobody turned semi-successful fashion designer instead of a Southern heiress turned semi-successful fashion designer.

His tone is deliberately nonchalant as he looks at his mom. “So what? She was ashamed of her background. Who hasn’t been embarrassed by their parents at one point?”

Bradley’s poking the bear. He has been embarrassed by both of his parents. When he was younger his embarrassment was in how they were always all over each other. Their love was disgusting in that wholly teenage way. Now, Bradley’s constantly embarrassed by the fact that his mom is so controlling over his life; because she insists that she knows best even though he’s thirty years old.

“I’m going to assume that was a rhetorical question.” Bradley’s quite content to let her think so.

“Assume away.” The fact that she’s still glaring as she walks away means that he’s hit a sensitive spot. But it has him rising as well, because he’s not going to let her intimidate him into doing something he doesn’t want to.

“No one is going to change my mind about this.” Bradley’s sure she’s going to try to dissuade him, again. “Not you, not the media, not anyone.”

“Fine, Brad. But admit it, I was right.” There’s victory in her gaze as she walks up to face him down.

“Yes, you were right. But she came clean. Now can we move on?” Please, can Carole Bradshaw’s one track mind be de-railed already?

“There is a wedding in your future, after all, whether you like it or not.” As if Bradley could forget - he’s just mentioning the wedding to get his mom off of the Linley and lying topic. It’s a decision he’s still not sure of. In truth he’d headed back to the Mitchell house in Pigeon Creek because he’d taken a look at his own polling numbers. People loved the fact that he was engaged. Then there’s Linley’s own chosen profession. It would be easy enough for her to stop fashion designing if his career demanded it. He could use a lovely leading lady on his arm after all for the endless rounds of fundraising galas and for swearing-in ceremonies.

“And how, exactly, does Little Miss Alabama plan to accommodate 500 people? I suppose she has connections at the jail?”

Hah! Bradley would pay to see Mayor Carole Bradshaw living out of a jail cell for the wedding. “Well, there are several excellent choices.” There's definitely a grin on his face as he lists out the options, if only because his mom seems angrier the more low-brow they get. “There's also a Travelodge, a Days Inn, a Motel 6 … oh, and the Golden Cherry Motel, where we will be.”

It’s obvious she’s less than amused. “Laugh now, but if this gets out, Bradley…”

“It won’t.” Bradley’s going to ensure it. As far as the press is concerned, Bradley Bradshaw is still marrying Linley Floyd of the Greeneville Floyds. It’s going to be a closed wedding, no press. The Bradshaws will be controlling the narrative every step of the way. “Anyways, mom, the press is expecting the Plaza in June. They’re not going to find out.”

New York City - Linley’s Apartment

It feels weird being back in New York City again. You’re the same person who left New York less than a week ago, but now you can feel it, how little you fit in. You’re lying on your bed flipping idly through one of the most recommended wedding magazines of the year. But it’s not keeping your attention - nothing about place settings or napkins or flower arrangements is. If you could kick your brain, you would. All you’re thinking about is Jake. Jake, Jake, Jake. The day you fell in love. The day your life changed. The day you left. But more than those days in the past, you’re eagerly thinking about the days you’ve experienced more recently with Jake - or well maybe you should say that you’re thinking about the one night you’ve spent with Jake recently.

It’s surreal how one night with your ex, a man you haven’t seen in nearly a decade, was more of everything you've been yearning for than the past eight months with your fiancé. Now the wedding plans are underway. It doesn’t feel right, what Bradley and his mom are planning. They’re bringing the media into town, cherry-picking journalists and photographers to spin this wedding the way they want it to be spun. Isn’t this wedding supposed to be about you and Bradley? Apparently not. Instead you feel like this is all about Bradley and his polling numbers.

The worst part is how there isn’t a person you can talk to. If you talk to Nat, all she mentions is her excitement for the wedding and how lucky you are to have Bradley in your life. But the more you think about it, the more you’re sure you only want to talk to one person. You’ve been holding yourself back from calling him for seven years now. You definitely can’t call him now. But you feel like you know exactly what he’s doing.

It’s a Sunday night, so Jake’s probably home with his mom and Amelia watching the football game. You can picture the languid sprawl his limbs are arranged in on Penny’s worn plush sofa. He’s probably wearing a football jersey and worn jeans, feet bare with Bryant curled up against his hip. His green eyes are probably narrowed at the screen, every inch of his body tense as he tracks the oblong football across the screen. Everything else will have faded away for him. The only important thing in his sights is probably the football game. There had been a time where you’d been able to pull his attention away. When you were younger, he used to pull you into his arms as he lay there on the sofa, turning you until you were comfortably ensconced in his embrace as his hands traced absent minded patterns against your stomach. That had been how he’d felt the baby kick, in those weeks before happily ever after crashed down around your ears. But now, you’re simply alone, lying on your bed and flipping through magazines with words that barely make sense, in a city which never sleeps and where you feel like you have no friends.

Or well, maybe you have one? It’s Tash on the phone, “Hey Linley! I feel like I haven’t seen you at all since you got back from Alabama!”

“Hey Tash.” Your voice is subdued as you roll across your bed, mussing the pristine sheets and knocking your pillows out of place. “I’ve missed you, too. But since I got back, I’ve just been planning the wedding.”

“Now why does it sound like you said The Wedding in all-caps?” Her gasp is over dramatic and you can practically see the way her almond shaped eyes narrow as her brain goes into overdrive. People always forget that models have brains. Nat never wanted to be a model full time. She was originally studying Business Management, wanting to start her own fashion house. But starting fashion houses needs money and influence in addition to a good head for business. “Fuck, Lin. Is Carole Bradshaw being an absolute bitch about this wedding?”

“She’s been more than a little annoying, yeah, Tash.” It makes your skin crawl just thinking about the meeting you’d had with Carole in her sprawling penthouse apartment the day after you came back to New York. You can still remember the hopelessness you’d felt at the sight of the fabric samples, cutlery, flower arrangements, invitations and more laid across the formal dining table. Carole had disregarded every decision you’d made and by the end of the neverending decisions about the wedding, your head was splitting. That was when she’d started talking about the venue.

“This place is gorgeous and we can control the security.” You’re not sure when she had the time to do this because she had picture after picture of the Floyd Plantation house.

“The Floyd Plantation?” It rankled a little as Carole patted your hand condescendingly.

“It did inspire your identity, didn’t it?” Oh, if only she knew. You’d picked the name of your other best friend for a reason. You’d picked Floyd as more than a wish for affluence. You’d picked Floyd as a wish for success, for happiness. It hadn’t helped that you’d seen Beau Simpson’s fakely polite smile the entire time you were at the manor either. In fact, you’re pretty sure the pictures Carole has of Floyd Plantation are from his foray into Floyd Plantation without permission.

You’re still reeling as you recount the whirlwind that Carole Bradshaw had become when you were talking about the arrangements.

“God, Lin! Did the old witch let you make any choices on your own?” You have to laugh at that. It’s obvious the Tash is calling you in between photo shoots because you can hear so much noise in the background.

“It doesn’t feel like she’s letting me pick out much, Tash. But she is letting me pick my dress, of course.” Tash’s laughter makes you laugh just a little too, your existential dread lifting just a little at the sound. “Do you want to come with me?”

“You’re serious?!” She sounds like she’s jumping up and down in her makeup chair.

“You’re one of my best friends, Tash! Of course I want you there!”

The next four weeks are filled with conversations like that one - light and easy but not emotionally fulfilling. You’re surrounded by more people than you ever have been in New York but you feel lonelier than ever. The night after your first wedding dress fitting, you give in to the urge and dial the number you’ve had in your thoughts ever since you left Pigeon Creek. Each ring makes the nerves and sorrow rise in your chest as you struggle to find the joy in planning this wedding. The days turn to weeks as you call and call and call. But when the busy tone turns into the announcement that the number you’re trying to reach has been disconnected, you know it’s time. You’ve made your bed, it’s time to lie in it.

I DO NOT CONSENT TO HAVE MY WORK POSTED, TRANSLATED, OR PUBLISHED ON ANY SITES OTHER THAN HERE, ON WATTPAD, OR ON AO3 BY ME. IF YOU SEE MY WORKS ANYWHERE OTHER THAN HERE, ON WATTPAD, OR AO3, THEN THEY HAVE BEEN POSTED WITHOUT MY PERMISSION AND I WILL BE WORKING TO TAKE THEM DOWN.

Taglist:

@atarmychick007 @the-romanian-is-bae @lt-spork @buckysdollforlife @blackwidownat2814 @praline357 @seitmai @cheyrenee @trickphotography2 @abaker74 @marrianena-library @angelbabyange @temptest13 @kmc1989 @im-an-adult-ish @chaoticassidy @inkandarsenic @lynnevanss @shanimallina87 @khaylin27 @mizzzpink @emma8895eb @hookslove1592 @leahnicole1219 @djs8891 @midnightmagpiemama @itsdesiree86 @desert-fern @horseshoegirl @dakotakazansky @sarahsmi13s @teacupsandtopgun @callsignspitfire @roosterforme @thedroneranger @cherrycola27 @mak-32 @beyondthesefourwalls

#star writes #top gun fanfic #top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick fanfic #top gun maverick fanfiction #top gun imagine #sweet home alabama #a top gun au #star's sweet home alabama top gun au #jake hangman seresin x oc #hangman x oc #jake seresin x oc #bradley rooster bradshaw x oc #rooster x oc #bradley bradshaw x oc

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zandiiangelspit · 1 year

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A Greater Memory Of You // Leon x Ashley

A simple seek and secure mission that had become a well of memories, haunting and traumatic but there was still some light in the form of golden hair and baby blue eyes. A rosy smile that kept him sane and grounded through the entire ordeal, made it bearable and something to fight for.

Who knew even during the worst week of your life could you find something so warm and beautiful. Who knew you could find home in a person.

It had been months since the events in Spain, or maybe longer as time began to bleed together. With the mission complete and over, life had returned to normal, or what little normality it seemed to hold these days.

Who knew even during the worst week of your life could you find something so warm and beautiful. Who knew you could find home in a person.

But now she was home, safe, never to endure such horrors again. Out of harm's way. Returned to her family and was secured from the outside world. It was unlikely she’d ever be alone again, always escorted by her security detail, kept well beyond arm's length for the rest of her life.

He often found himself looking back at the photo of her, once a piece of evidence now a momento he hadn’t the heart to hand in and get rid of. To see her smile again was bitter sweet. It brought him joy but each time the photo reminded him how he’d never see her again. It had never crossed his mind, especially after growing so fond of her, that the possibility of never seeing her once she returned home.

After spending every waking hour with her in mind, having her so close and beside him, learning more about her unbridled spirit and her captivating enthusiasm, to never see it again felt like a piece of him was now missing.

Something about her lifted his spirits, she was everything he never knew he needed. Sure, he has saved people before, stayed in contact with them and felt the relief of a life saved. But Ashley… he couldn’t stop thinking about her. Pining for her.

A knock at the door drew him from his spiral of plaguing thoughts, snapping him out of the daze he often found himself in. Tucking the photo back into his wallet he heaved himself from the chair at his desk.

To his pleasant surprise it was the welcome familiar face of Claire at his door. One of the few people who seemed to pull him back on his feet. Never judging him for taking longer than he needed, knowing the horrors that haunted him as well. Maybe too well, her own experiences are like a creeping shadow on her own mind that she could never fully shake off. She just had a better way of hiding it.

“Hey,” she started, smiling the best she could while seeing the lost look in his eyes, knowing how distant he seemed to be, especially lately, “I know you’re still recovering and taking your time but I thought I’d bring you this..” Offered out to him was a large white box, neatly wrapped with twine and a brown paper envelope tucked in with it.

Furrowing his brow, he looked to Claire with some hesitation, her smile never faltering as she offered it out again to him. “Some M.I.B. looking guy handed it over to me yesterday, so I figured I’d give it to you directly before it gathers dust.”

“Huh, some gift basket ‘thank you’ I see,” he scoffed, taking the box and looking over the envelope for the way his name was written. His eyes softened and his heart nearly skipped a beat. It was handwritten, not typed. Just his first name, no full formal surname or title copied and pasted from a template.

“Oh yeah, sure. Probably some nice soaps or fancy cheese.” She chuckled, stuffing her hands back into her jacket away from the cold. “You get used to it..” Noticing the bewildered look on his face, she smiled to herself. Sure he was stronger and tougher now, but he was still that tender young hopeful man beneath the hardened exterior she had first met.

“I’ll leave you to it,” Claire announced, turning on a heel to leave the porch, knowing well Leon was now distracted. “Take care of yourself, Leon.”

Pulling himself away from the box, she had already taken her leave, looking up just in time to see her wave from the car as she pulled away. His eyes lingered until she was gone from view, dropping his eyes back to the box as he went back inside the apartment.

Setting the box down at his desk, he carefully pulled at the twine string, admiring the bow lovingly placed in the centre. Removing the envelope he studied his name again, a knot twisting in his stomach as he tentatively opened it. The paper inside was pretty and pastel, a border of floral filigree along the edges to frame the delicate handwriting inside. His heart nearly stopping as his eyes scanned the first few words,

“My dear Leon,

I hope this letter finds you well and that you’re happy and safe.

I could never find the words to truly thank you for saving me. Your kindness and devotion mean the world to me.

You mean the world to me.

I miss you…

Thank you again…

Maybe one day we’ll see each other again, I hope every day that we do.

Love,

Ashley

P.S. I hope this fits you. I decided this colour would suit you best, as your loyal stylist.”

He read over the letter a few times, subconsciously sat against the back of the couch, unable to pull himself away from the gift. His eyes kept going back to her name, the way he could see her perfectly even in the way she writes. There was a smile on his lips he hadn’t felt in weeks, not since the last time he saw her. His heart ached and chest grew tight, reading again the last few lines.

“I miss you too,” he quietly murmured to himself in the cold emptiness of his lonely apartment.

Standing up he moved to the box again, gently setting down the letter and lifting off the lid to reveal the tissue wrapped gift inside. Unfolding the soft orange paper, his smile grew and he let out an airy laugh.

Neatly pressed inside was a leather bomber jacket, near identical to his previous one now lost to an abandoned village in Spain. It was cleanly made, fresh and new. The fresh smell of leather and cotton filled the air with a faint scent of perfume. Her perfume. Clearly she had handled it before carefully packing it away, neatly wrapping it herself.

Pulling it out he looked it over adoringly. The lining was tidy and the sheepskin lined collar was soft to the touch. The leather was smooth and expertly tailored, a burnt umber collar with matching cream lining. The buckles were the same, all shiny and fresh, polished to match the brass colour zips.

Unzipping the front, he noticed it had one additional element, a small label beneath its patch of authenticity, a golden colour with dusky purple embroidered writing, adorned with a small heart.

‘My hero, love Ashley’.

His fingers gently brushed over the embroidery, too stunned by the immense care and love she had put into a gift just for him. The fact she has remembered such an insignificant fact about him, something so throw away and trivial in comparison to the greater things at stake.

He had briefly mentioned about his jacket while they took a breather one night, gathering their energy to continue through the castle they had unfortunately found themselves.

‘I’d offer you my jacket, however, it seems one of our unwelcome guests has taken a shine to it’. Leon signed, frustrated he couldn’t offer Ashley more comfort from the cold, especially since the rain had picked up and soaked them both.

‘It’s okay, I can manage,’ she smiled, trying her best not to show her trembling body or chattering teeth. Even with her jacket and adrenaline the chill has seemed through to her bones. ‘Could you not get it back?’

He sighed, checking his ammo count for a second time, ‘I would if I could, however I don’t fancy it now it’s burned and covered in gore. Don’t think it’d suit me.’

His smile was sarcastic as he loaded up another mag, her eyes following his hands then back to his face when she realised the jacket was no more. The explosion from his precise aim to a tanker earlier had consumed it along with the hoard they had been escaping.

‘Oh’ she frowned, ‘that sucks…’

‘Yeah, I loved that jacket. Got it with my first paycheque. A long time ago now…’ snapping the mag back into his pistol, he shrugged, ‘anyway, let’s get going. Got more important things to worry about than my choice in fashion.’

‘I’ll get you a new one, we’ll go on a shopping trip when we get home!’

He chuckled, meeting her hopeful expression with a raised brow. ‘A shopping trip? You got it. You can be my stylist.’

Ashley nodded enthusiastically, ‘yes! I mean, who doesn’t love clothes shopping?’

‘I’d happily watch paint dry with you over this hell any day.’ Her expression faltered, a soft flush across her face as she reached for his offered hand to her. Smiling up at him, she nodded shyly as she squeezed his hand, unable to respond to his remark with any kind of composure. It was endearing, how quickly she could go from level headed and confident to shy and hesitant.

Pulling her close to him, Leon smiled, raising her hand to press a kiss to her knuckles. ‘But first, let’s get you home and out of the cold.’

Raising the jacket to his lips, he pressed his lips to the label, closing his eyes to savour the scent of her on the leather before it faded. Inhaling deeply then slowly releasing. His shoulders relaxed as he looked down onto it again, unable to stop himself from smiling, even though his heart was aching.

“Thank you. Ashley…”

Pulling it on, adjusting the collar and checking the cuffs, he shook his head to himself, impressed with just how perfectly it fit. Of course it did. Ashley has made sure it would. Even without a tape measure and reference, she knew fashion when she saw it. It was clear from her own choice of clothes, expensive and high end, neat and designer. She knew what she was looking for even from a brief summary and just by looking at him. Ashley knew his taste better than he did.

Glancing at the reflection of himself in the glass of the cabinet beside him, admiring the colour again, he noticed it would have matched the colour of her own clothes, the rich orange of her blaser. Ever thoughtful with a keen eye for the little things.

He now had a piece of her with him, not just a crumpled faded photo to remember her by, nor distant memories corrupted by nightmares. Just the simple gift of her remembering him, thinking of him, and missing him too.

Maybe one day they’d meet again and maybe he could return a greater gift to her. Though nothing would be a greater gift than to see her golden smile again.

#writing #fanfic #one shot #RE4 #RE4R #resident evil 4 #leon x ashley #ashley x leon #leon kennedy #ashley graham #leon kennedy x ashley graham #this ended up being a little longer than I thought #but still #bittersweet angst is my favourite

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wendylianmartin · 2 months

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Are you trolling or something?The few days ago you were saining that " you will back this week" I am disappointed I am really disappointed it's sucks! Webtoon sucks! So how come they did not tell you it before?! Like... Really Wendy,? It's second time and here we are. Near for update ( again) but no Wait for a month than wait for another month.

Hey I’d come back this weekend if they let me. That was my whole plan but they said no. not sure what I can do except for make the next few episodes as fast as possible.

And I don’t really like to talk about how I’m doing because I never want my readers to associate my struggles with the comic in any way or feel guilty for wanting it to come back and expressing that. However, I’ve been in a very bad place ever since I was forced to take that early break to work on the book. I spent most days in tears and went through just a very difficult mental period where I had to stop looking at anything involved with the comic because any small negative thing would send me on a spiral and would have me sobbing on the couch lol.

There were other stressors in my life contributing to this but it took a lot of time to get myself in a healthy place again and I’m still recovering a bit. So it’s been a bit of a struggle and I’m sure the inconsistent update schedule kinda reflects that.

But I know as my readers you want what’s best for me in the end and I want to put in the work to have healthy boundaries around the creation of the comic and my interactions online. The only thing I have control of is myself so I want to better curate my environment by not reading comments and creating healthier work habits with episodes.

I never want anyone to read the comic and think “man Wendy had a hard time while working on this” I only want you to read the story and enjoy it and not worry about me at all ;) because I love Castle Swimmer and I think both the story and it’s readers deserve the best 💖

Sorry that was so long winded! All in all, I totally understand your frustration. (Yesterday I just sat and stared at the wall the entire day after webtoon told me I couldn’t come back yet lol) but just know that I’m still working on the comic and I’m gonna work on being in a healthier place so that updates can return more regularly in the future 👍

#castle swimmer

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mooncello · 2 months

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What a fun Sunday so far. ⚡ thank you for the tags @bookish-bogwitch (LOVE seeing some of your writing process), @shrekgogurt (still haven't recovered from ch 13 of ikabikam in the best way possible), @emeryhall (happy anniversary!) & @you-remind-me-of-the-babe (anguished Baz is such a vibe fr).

For today's update:

Enter Niall & Dev.

Truly one of the most unexpected delights of writing this fic has been the insistence of Niall and Dev to show up and take a prominent role in the story. I adore them. I adore them as individual characters, and I love who they are for Baz.

Here's a little from chapter 2 of lost boys. This chapter will publish next week! I'm traveling this week, so I'll post once I'm back.

Under the cut because of length. It's a 30+ sentence Sunday, y'all.

Baz POV, 16 yo, year 12 (school).

Towards the end of lunch, I hear a familiar booming laugh across the canteen. I figure I have two minutes until impact. I tuck my sketchbook and pencils away and twist the lid back onto my thermos of tea. “Just a head’s up,” I say to Niall, who is still contently working away, “we’re about to be interrupted by the demon of chaos hims—” “Bazza!” There’s the solid thump of a hand against my shoulder and the dramatic collapse of tall, muscular limbs into the seat beside me. “My favourite nerd. How’s it going, cuz?” Dev flashes his white, perfect teeth at me before snatching my remaining bourbon biscuit. His fingernails are painted turquoise today, his dark hair is swept away from his face, and he’s wearing eyeliner. The bastard looks amazing. Despite being cousins, we never really hung out as kids. Always kept to different social circles. Which is to say Dev constantly had a roving pack of friends, and I had nobody (save for the lost boys in my dreams). But when I got outed this past spring, Dev decided to take a more active presence in my life. He even convinced me to join the football team with him. He’s charismatic and popular in his own way, and so unabashedly and loudly himself that even the nastiest bullies don’t bother him. It's been nice, having Dev in my life. Even though it means I now deal with his chaotic, abrasive personality all the goddamn time. “Dev, this is Niall.” I make a small sweeping motion to the boy across from us. Dev raises his chin in greeting. “New kid. Hey.” Niall smiles faintly. He looks rather disoriented. Possibly awestruck. I don’t blame him. Dev tends to have that effect on people. I’m almost envious of it. Another smack hits my upper arm. “Did’ya hear about practice this afternoon? Thirty minutes later than usual.” “Yes, I received the same team-wide notification, Dev, thank you.” Dev is now peering at Niall’s drawing tablet without shame, while continuing to talk to me. “A bunch of us are getting ice cream after the match on Friday. Wanna join?” “That’s a very solid maybe,” I tell him in a tone that communicates I’d rather eat grass laced with slug poison. I like playing on the pitch, but I’m not about to huff dairy with a bunch of footballer lads. “Great.” Dev stands, all six feet of him, and squeezes my top knot. I sigh and bat his hand away. Clearly I need to have another conversation with him about acceptable physical contact. “See you at practice then. Nice meeting you, Niall.” He’s off in a swirl of flair and overpriced body spray. “Sorry about him,” I murmur to Niall. I really hope he’s not scared off.

hellos & tags! xoxo

@thewholelemon, @best--dress, @facewithoutheart, @cutestkilla, @whatevertheweather, @artsyunderstudy, @ivelovedhimthroughworse, @fatalfangirl, @youarenevertooold, @raenestee, @orange-peony, @ileadacharmedlife, @nightimedreamersworld, @rimeswithpurple, @iamamythologicalcreature, @shemakesmeforget & @arthurkko (your merwolves ... still thinking about your merwolves)

#niall and dev #my beloveds #dev is wearing tom ford's oud wood body spray #it is EXPENSIVE #total flex on his part #dev is so extra #I love him #30+ sentence sunday #lost boys #snowbaz fanfic #my writing

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earthstellar · 1 year

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Battle Analysis: TFP S2 Episode 18 - New Recruit

I like how in the beginning of Smokescreen’s introductory episode, we get to see a decent little battle which serves to emphasise how each character works well independently and together in a fight.

it actually reminds me a lot of how my father (who was a field medic in the Army) used to tell me about how some of his casualty extraction missions went, in terms of how Ratchet is positioned with the others in formation etc.

Then I started thinking about it, and I thought it might be a good scene to go over in a little more detail.

So, since I’ve never done a battle analysis before, I figured I’d try covering this one! :)

The Situation at Hand

It’s worth keeping in mind that the setup here is that a Cybertronian pod has crashed down to Earth’s surface, and the Autobots are unable to ascertain if it is an enemy pod or not.

So Optimus asks Ratchet to bring his medical kit, in the event that it is a fellow Autobot who may need medical attention, which is a reasonable decision and places Ratchet in the field with good purpose.

They leave without Bulkhead, as he is still recovering from prior injuries.

The order in which they arrive on scene via ground bridge is notable:

Bumblebee is a scout, so he’s out of the ground bridge first.

Arcee is supporting Bumblebee as spotter/additional firepower; Both her and Bumblebee are in “on point” positions, meaning they are the most exposed forward.

Optimus is, in this situation, the heaviest hitter, so he takes a central position-- This also allows him to remain in reasonable proximity to all members of the away team, making it ideally easier for him to command.

Ratchet is in the rear position, slightly offset to Optimus’ left, giving both Optimus and Arcee good cover of him if things happened to kick off immediately upon arrival on scene.

This is a good deployment arrangement!

Arcee and Bumblebee proceed forward and get to the crashed pod first, which makes sense; This is why they’re on point.

But then the group spaces out a little bit, which isn’t ideal; Oh shit, it’s Decepticons!!! Mostly Insecticons.

Immediately we see Arcee and Bumblebee close in together, something they’re probably familiar with and were possibly trained to do, given that they are in complimentary positions in deployment most of the time.

But this leaves Ratchet exposed, and you can actually see in his posture here (sorry for the blurry screencap, this is a very short moment and the camera moves over fairly quickly) that Ratchet is wary of the source of enemy fire and appears to be trying to move closer to where Optimus is generally at.

Again, this makes sense: Medics are, unfortunately, a huge target on the battlefield. (Geneva Convention treaties don’t apply here, and even if they did, most of the time they’re just ignored in reality. It’s not great.) You DO NOT want to be in the open anyway, but especially not when you are a very easily identifiable, highly desirable target for enemy fire.

As a medic, you aren’t just charging in with any others, you’re constantly strategically trying to figure out the best way to provide support and not die while doing it. While Ratchet does have one of his wrist blades deployed here, keep in mind, Ratchet does not have a blaster or long range weaponry. He’s at a particular disadvantage in this situation.

So Ratchet’s best chance for cover and his best position to provide support is with Optimus, who is more likely to be hit (owing to slower speed and larger size compared to Bee and Arcee). Thus giving him more protection and allowing him to serve as functional support.

For those of you who have played TF2, this is probably the most obvious part of why the Medic/Heavy combo is so good. It provides maximum benefit to both people/players.

(At the same time, the reason he didn’t follow Optimus from the get-go is likely because since Bee and Arcee have lighter armour, they might be at greater risk of injury from just one or two shots, compared to Optimus who’s a bit hardier. So he took a middle position, which unfortunately left him with no immediate cover.)

Unfortunately, Ratchet is also old. So he’s instantly pinned by a fuck off huge Insecticon; There’s no way most could have reacted in time to dodge this, but especially not him.

What I especially like here though, is that the impact of this hit appears to genuinely stun him.

It happens quickly, but you can see how he’s looking straight forward here, his limbs are out to his sides-- It seems to take him a full second to recover and actually look up.

While Ratchet is just about pinned, the Insecticon does actually leave a noticeable amount of space in between them, which makes me think this impact definitely hit Ratchet pretty hard; He has enough space here to take a swing with his blade, but he doesn’t.

It’s interesting because this is a pretty good shot; The Insecticon has a fully exposed torso here, which would be a good area to target with a blade as their armour seems thinner to allow for greater range of movement and speed.

But! Not taking the opportunity here was also a solid choice.

Ratchet, being smaller in terms of height, may have been able to get a good jab into the torso and upward with his blade, which would likely have caused some decent damage in a sensitive area and may have even allowed for a large tear to form in the armour, leaving the Insecticon more vulnerable to blaster fire or any follow up impact to the chest/waist.

At the same time, in the moment, Ratchet is now trying to recover rapidly from a hit that was hard enough to stun him while also having to evaluate if the risk of taking any action here would be worth it. The Insecticon could easily close in, especially with greater speed...

...And of course, the Autobots are experienced at working with each other in the field. Ratchet also likely understood that Arcee and Bee are still close enough to provide assistance, and might have made the call to depend on their aid rather than risk damaging his wrist blade-- Which is still a medical tool, and his primary purpose in the field is to assist others if/as needed. If his wrist blade is damaged or dulled while trying to puncture Insecticon armour, that would leave him less capable at his primary function here.

Arcee ends up coming in from the side to take the opportunity instead, which is quickly proven to have been a good choice of action. And very good situational awareness on Arcee’s part, too!

Arcee is grabbed by the Insecticon after giving it a reasonably heavy kick, but is able to get out of it’s grasp with a solid backflip-- Ratchet just does not have the flexibility or frame type to allow for this type of escape, especially not after just having been stunned by a full-body impact.

It was the right call for Ratchet to leave it open so Arcee could land the hit.

Sure, the Insecticon may not have been able to grab Ratchet in the same way, but Arcee has the reaction speed to match, and created a ton of distance in between her and the enemy almost instantly-- Something Ratchet could not have done if the Insecticon further advanced on him, as the boulder he was rammed into limits his movement options.

We then see that Optimus has also moved back over to close the gap between everyone, with Arcee next to Bee (although hard to see in this particular shot) and Ratchet now in a better position to provide support (behind and to Optimus’ right), even though he did not have to move himself-- Optimus moved over to him, instead.

Smokescreen shows up, initially jumps over Bee and Arcee to take point position, then leaps back-- And firmly plants himself in front of Ratchet as well, while also maintaining enough distance to still remain on point.

It’s worth remembering that Smokescreen at the very least went through boot camp for the Iacon Elite Guard (even though this seems to have mostly been a ploy by Alpha Trion and we don’t know what the actual selection process was like for any of this), so Smokescreen does seem to have some ability to know where to position himself in battle, even if he lacks experience and his tactics amount to “fire a lot at the enemy or in their general direction”. lmao he’s still learning though, it’s fine.

As far as Smokescreen is concerned, there was a gap exposing their medic, and they only have one heavy hitter (Optimus), so he’s put himself in a position where he can cover Ratchet, easily move to group with the other faster, lighter weight bots if an advantage opens up for them to move forward, or move laterally to provide fire support for Optimus if need be.

Honestly, not a bad position to take, it’s just the way he went about it and his “shoot everything” approach which is problematic, lmao.

At this point, he ignites the energon fuel leaking from the pod by accident, which leads to a bit of an “oh shit run away” sequence-- But we can still see that they maintain a reasonable formation in falling back:

Ratchet, in the rear and most defended position, is now first out. Arcee on the far left is running up ahead to get in front of or alongside him, to regain a more on point position. Bee is following her, slightly slower to keep the formation reasonably tight. Optimus is taking the right side, and Smokescreen follows suit slightly to the right as well but in a good position to turn around and take an immediate point position in the opposite direction if needed to provide some rear cover.

They successfully bail behind some rock formations for cover from the burning fuel explosion, and you can see the order in which they get there, consistent with the previous sequence.

They land in the appropriate order: Arcee, Ratchet, Bee, Optimus, then Smokescreen last.

And that’s pretty much it, the explosion took out the Insecticons and Smokescreen proceeds to embarrass himself immediately. lmao

This whole little scene is a particularly good example of the Autobots sticking to their roles in battle while also understanding how best to operate and work together as a team when deployed.

Although it’s fairly short, it showcases everyone’s respective roles in battle very well!

Bee is an excellent scout, and we know that, but it’s nice to see him actually handling things effectively in the field; Notice how he’s one of the few who didn’t get pushed around too much here! When the team had to close in together, they did so with Bee’s general position as their defensible point, and stayed more central to where their fire was being most effective.

Arcee got to showcase her skills in a few ways here, speed and situational awareness both being critical. It would have been easy for her to fixate on what her and Bee were doing, but she knows better than to get lost in a single focus and came to Ratchet’s rescue very effectively.

Ratchet was ready throughout to provide support if needed, and when he got attacked, he knew to rely on his teammates to assist him rather than risk taking additional damage as the sole medic.

Optimus did a good job (as expected) being both their sole heavier gunner and their field commander-- Double duty, as Bulkhead’s still out of commission. He was clearly right to order a retreat when he did, and didn’t bother fixating too much on Smokescreen’s sudden appearance, instead remaining focused on the task at hand. Not that any of this is surprising, but it would be interesting to compare his field command style to Ultra Magnus’.

Smokescreen did a good job of figuring out where to fit himself in during battle; He just really needs to stop fucking around, lmao, but he also just woke up after a fairly long stasis and he has very limited actual field experience prior to this, so that’s worth keeping in mind!

---

Hopefully this was interesting; I just woke up so I’m still sipping a coffee lmao but I wanted to write this up while I had a little time. :)

If you read all this, thank you so much!! :) <3

#long post #analysis post #transformers prime #tfp #tfp smokescreen #tfp ratchet #tfp optimus prime #tfp arcee #tfp bumblebee #analysis #tfp analysis #maccadam #maccadams

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seancekitsch · 2 years

Note

Hi!!!! Can you do “You’re more than just a one night stand.” with Eddie?

omg hieee i had fun w this

You wake up to the smell of stale weed, sweat, and patchouli incense, again, for at least the third time.

Steve had thrown another party, one where he tried hopelessly to play wingman to you and Robin. You wish he’d only focus on Robin, because for the past few parties, you’d snuck away from your childhood best friend to hook up with Eddie Munson under the guise of a ride home, when really you hadn’t slept at your house during the weekends in almost a month.

It was all hands and lips and hurried stripping and clumsiness. You and Eddie fumbling your way into bed and moaning praises and promises that always dissipate by morning. The early light alerting you to scramble out of his embrace just to hide in the back room of Family Video to adjust your appearance before a hungover Steve and Robin appear for the three of you to commiserate and make fun of each other while recovering. Robin always noticed you melancholy on Sunday mornings, but chalked it up to Steve being bad at wingmanning.

No, if anything he was great at it. He had introduced you to Eddie in early April, stating that everything you and Steve didn’t have in common, you and Eddie did. And he was right, your love of harder music, obscure and gory horror, and your crass sense of humor meshed perfectly. Too perfectly.

Your fingers grasp the cheap cotton sheets below you, a slow panic sliding through your veins like a sludge, knowing this Sunday would be like the rest, your discarded backpack with todays clothes sitting on his dresser like an almost spiritual weight on you, knowing you have to change in near silence to avoid Eddie on the way out.

He never asks you about your leaving, so you assume he doesn’t care. The past few Saturdays you meet up at Steve’s like normal, flirt like normal, pretend to get driven home like normal, wake up and leave while hes asleep like normal.

And then Eddie’s watch starts beeping.

Sleepily, he groans, and tightens his grip on you.

“Mmmmm, good morning, sweets,” he groans as he presses a kiss to the crown of your head not even opening his eyes.

“I was hoping I’d catch you before you pulled a Cinderella again.”

“Mornin,” you say, trying to sound as sleepy as possible, hoping your voice doesn’t give away the fact that you’ve been awake.

“Look, you can stay, y’know? y’always run outta here,” Eddie sleepily slurs. His socks covered big toe rubs against your bare calf, and you want to die. He’s just as cute as you thought he’d be in the morning.

“Hookups dont stay,” you mumble, as you use your grip on the sheets to try to pull yourself to a sitting up position, but his strong arms keep you next to him.

“Do you think you’re a hookup?” he asks in earnest.

fuckfuckfuckpleasedontcry.

“Uh huh,” is all you can manage.

He turns you over to face him, and reconfigures his hug, but you don’t hug back.

“Listen, sweetheart, you’re more than just a one night stand,”

“I’m a three night stand,” you supply, looking anywhere but his eyes, even though his thumb is gently pushing your chin to make you look at him.

“You’re more than a three night stand, too. I can’t believe I’ve gotta say this,” he’s now faltering, “Please look at me, please.”

You feel like you have to, the sincerity of his voice breaking your heart. His big brown doe eyes are blown wide, mapping and searching your face for understanding.

“Eddie please don’t,” you beg, not ready for the bubble to burst, for your heart to break, “Forget I said anything, lets have a little round two and then I go home and we’ll see each other at Harrington’s next party.”

“Babe, I don’t want that,” Eddie whispers, his voice strained.

A tear escapes your eye and rolls down your cheek until it touches his thumb, and his heart breaks.

“I want to wake up every day with you. I don’t want to wait for Steve to throw a party. I want you in bed with me because I want you around.”

This… wasn’t expected. You truly thought you’d be walking out of here silently crying to avoid Wayne and stomping over to Family Video to shove on your vest three hours early and hide in the near empty building.

“You…. do?” you ask, almost afraid to trust your ears.

“I do. Stay for breakfast. I have poppyseed bagels and I can drive you to work.”

You pause.

“How do you know I have work?”

He has the nerve to look sheepish, before burying his face in your neck.

“Maybe I follow you when you run out of here because I worry about you and I need you to be safe,” he mumbles against you, and your hand comes up to massage his scalp in his mess of curly hair.

You have to take a second to process that. And then a smile starts to grow as you continue to run your nails along his scalp.

“I’ll let you take me to work, Munson,” you start, and he raises his head to look you in the eye, “As long as you make me yours.”

“Oh Honey,” he practically moans, “I was ready to marry you after our first time.”

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson imagine

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damn-it-a-garreth-side-blog · 11 months

Text

NSFW Alphabet: Garreth Weasley x fem!MC

Heyyyyy remember when I said I didn’t know if I’d write anything for Garreth because I am still completely obsessed with Ominis? 👉👈

It’s not exactly a fanfic, but I knew I’d have to write a headcanon list for Garreth at one point or another :^) I think I'm the first to do one of these for Garreth, which is exciting. I hope it inspires others to write their own alphabets for Garreth, too. Happy Weasley Wednesday!

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Garreth loves cuddling more than almost anything in the world and will hold MC close for hours if MC allows it. He wouldn’t be able to stop stroking her hair and talking to her about anything and everything. If it leads to round two, he’s very happy. Otherwise, he’s quite content to just kiss and touch her until they’re ready to get up or go to sleep. If they get up to take a bath together, get a snack, etc., Garreth will follow her around still naked, sleepily clinging to her from behind and trying to playfully convince her to cuddle some more.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Picking a favorite body part of MC’s would be extremely difficult for Garreth. How a man chooses just one thing he likes the most about the most beautiful girl in the world is beyond him. If his life depended on the answer, he might say her lips when she smiles. His heart swells when he sees her happy, and he always wants to kiss her when he sees that smile.

A favorite body part of his own is his hands. They’re a bit callused from all the burns, scrapes and general wear and tear one’s hands accrue from brewing potions all the time, but he would argue they’re even better that way. He uses his hands to explore every inch of MC’s body as often as possible. He can’t get enough of her warm, soft skin, and none of that would be possible without his hands.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Garreth loves the idea of coming inside MC. Being that close to her at his most vulnerable is a moment he would love to share with her. If she's more comfortable with him coming elsewhere, he hopes to use his mouth to help her clean up any cum that got on her.

The more cum MC has both before and after her own climax, the better. There’s no such thing as too much for Garreth. Watching her undress and noticing her arousal already dripping from her core is a huge turn-on, and making her come is his favorite thing to do to her. However he achieves it matters little—as long as she’s moaning his name and he gets to feel her body twitch against his hand, mouth or cock, he’s an extremely happy man.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He likes the idea of doing research into potions that would improve people’s sex lives. Everything from contraception to pleasure enhancement—if it’s something that could be improved with a simple little draught, he wants to find the solution. He would love for MC to help him test some formulas, of course. His goal is to make a potion that allows the drinker to instantly recover their stamina for another round of lovemaking. He would use a potion like that as often as possible.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Garreth has had a bit of experience before MC, but not anything he would consider significant. He’s handsome and charming, and it’s gotten him a few partners in the past—he’s just never felt a connection like he does with MC. Most of his experience has to do with using his hands or mouth, rather than anything penetrative, so their first time having sex might be a little clumsy and awkward. Garreth is nothing is not dedicated, however, and will do whatever it takes to practice and get better. He would be a bit shy about admitting he's had previous partners to MC, but if MC is comfortable with that discussion, he will be happy to tell MC she's far and beyond the best partner he's ever had.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

The more unusual and acrobatic, the more exciting for Garreth. He would love to try making MC lean against something like a table or the wall so he could pull one of her legs up over his shoulder and fuck her senseless.

Garreth also can't help but enjoy slightly submissive positions. His favorite would be MC pushing him back into their pillows and riding his cock. He loves to reach around and squeeze her ass while she milks him relentlessly. He would be over the moon if MC wanted to take charge and tell him he can only come when she gives him permission, and it would only be made better if he had to beg her for it.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Garreth is somewhere in the middle of serious and humorous during sex. He's going to be absolutely beaming the entire time he's being intimate with MC. He's so proud of how beautiful she is, and he is still in a little bit of disbelief that she wants to sleep with him. She's the most important thing in the world to him in that moment, and he wants each second to be joyful, because he falls in love with MC a little bit more every time she smiles or laughs. He's not above playful gestures before, during and after lovemaking.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Being a redhead, his hair is more coarse, so he keeps himself tidy both for his own comfort and MC’s. He has some moderate hair on his chest that he would love for MC to grab while they're being intimate. The hair on his body is a light, pretty crimson, and if MC wakes up in the morning next to him with the rays of morning sun beaming down on him while he’s still sleeping, the hair on his head, chest and around his cock will positively glow.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Garreth’s version of romance involves plenty of joy and laughter. He wants to see MC smiling and enjoying herself while they’re being intimate in any way. Whether that means seeing MC’s absolutely inebriated smile when he gazes up at her from between her legs, or he’s being playful and tickling her before or after sex, he always wants to make MC smile. He hopes MC is up for a good pillow fight now and then, too. MC can expect Garreth to want to play silly games like discussing "would you rather" scenarios or having a staring contest while they're cuddling afterwards.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Garreth loves to masturbate, even when he's with MC. It's not because he isn't satisfied with MC—rather, he sees it as just another method of giving and receiving pleasure, and would love to share it with MC. MC walking in on Garreth masturbating would be a huge turn-on for him. Were it to happen, he would invite her to join him and either help him finish, or take things a bit further than what he could have accomplished on his own. He will offer to help MC masturbate too, gently kissing her as he does whatever she needs while murmuring about how beautiful she is and asking her to tell him about her wildest fantasies, even if they are impossible to fulfill.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Impact play is pretty high on Garreth’s list of kinks. Giving MC’s ass a good swat and listening to her surprised little shriek is just too irresistible. Incorporating a bit of dirty talk and punishment would be the icing on the cake for Garreth.

Body worship is another kink he especially likes, both giving and receiving. He wants MC to know she's beautiful and loved, and telling her how attractive she is is part of that territory for Garreth. His favorite would be MC taking control and telling him how pretty he is while she rides his cock. Being complimented on his freckles and his fiery curls, as well as things like his moans of pure pleasure, would be enough to send him over the edge.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Anywhere with a big, cozy bed is Garreth's favorite kind of place to make love to MC. He loves to see her grip the sheets until her knuckles are white, or giving her someplace soft to sit while he eats her out. The more pillows to play around with, the better—whether he props her hips up under a stack of pillows or pushes MC into a mountain of them just to watch her comfortably fall backwards and smile invitingly up at him. Having somewhere soft and warm to cuddle afterwards is a must for Garreth. If it's cold outside, he will want to wrap the both of them in the sheets and protect her from the cold.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Seeing MC masturbate is always a good way to get Garreth turned on. Seeing her enjoying herself in a way nobody else gets to see is a major turn-on. Any of the more unusual methods will especially get him going. Whether it’s MC riding a pillow or talking out loud about her fantasies while she lets him watch, Garreth would love to see and hear it all. There is very little MC could do to be embarrassed in front of him. While he isn't the type to force MC into anything she doesn't want to do, he would find any shyness adorable and a bit of a turn-on. He would instantly go into protective/affectionate mode seeing her looking timidly back at him. He would hold her hand and pepper her with soft kisses, reassuring her that she's safe and loved no matter what.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Garreth can't stand the thought of forcing MC into something she isn't completely enthusiastic about. If she's only giving half her effort to lovemaking, Garreth will know. He will stop and ask her what's wrong and if she wants to talk about it. He might be frustrated, but he understands if something is bothering her and she needs to be given some space. Being with someone who routinely didn't give as much effort in the bedroom as he did would shatter his heart and his confidence.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Listening to MC whimper and feeling her squirm as Garreth's curly hair brushes the insides of her thighs while he's giving her oral brings Garreth a ridiculous amount of gratification. He really loves the idea of MC taking his entire cock in her mouth all at once, too; getting to come down her throat would be simply divine to him. Oral is Garreth's favorite way to start any session in bed together, and he is always looking for new ways to drive MC wild. Using his mouth on the rest of her body also excites him, and he hopes MC will want to return the gesture.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Garreth is somewhere in the middle with his pacing. He’s enthusiastic, but doesn’t want to go so fast and be so rough that he comes too early or hurts MC. He loves to start with a slow striptease from MC, and would gladly do the same for her. If things go too slowly, he gets impatient and begs for MC to go faster, but if it's too fast, he will ask if she wants to slow down to avoid injuring either of them.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Garreth isn’t really a fan of quickies. Sure, the first few times they could be exciting and he’s always ready to try something new, but he wants to be able to take his time with MC and really savor being with her every time they make love. If there is no way around it, Garreth will promise something much better later on, and will spend the rest of his time until then completely distracted, coming up with something special with which to spoil MC.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Garreth loves to experiment. Just as he likes tinkering with his potions, he enjoys trying new things with MC. He would like to keep a collection of books for them to read together and get inspiration from. Reading erotica together and trying the things they read, even if it doesn't always work out, would be ideal. If something doesn't work, he hopes they can both laugh about it and try something else. the last thing he wants is for either himself or MC to feel inadequate because they didn't enjoy something they thought they would, and Garreth will be quick to remind MC that it's nothing personal and they can go back to something they know they both like.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Garreth can last a few rounds at least. He hopes he can get MC to come for him as many times in a single session as possible. He will be sure that each of her orgasms is better than the last, until they’re both so fucked out that they can’t manage another round. If MC still wants to keep going, he will switch to giving her oral as many times as she needs to finally be satisfied. Garreth's sleepy smile as he does his best to pleasure MC is a sight to behold.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Garreth wouldn't be opposed to watching MC pleasure herself with toys. He might start feeling a bit jealous and ask that he take the place of anything she's using after a while, however.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Garreth loves getting wound up by MC, being made to wait until he doesn’t think he can last one second longer without coming on himself. Despite his height advantage over MC, he enjoys being a bit submissive for her and letting her tease him however she sees fit. He will gladly tease MC too. Everything from giving her suggestive looks while out in public to hugging her from behind and sliding a hand down the front of her skirt/pants while they're alone at home together, Garreth is the king of teasing. He quickly learns how to tell when MC is close to her climax and how to back off so she makes that perfect little whine and follows him to the bedroom for more.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Garreth is loud while having sex, and hopes MC doesn’t mind and joins him in making noise. He will talk dirty to MC as much as she wants, moan her name while worshipping her body and make loud wordless noises while thrusting into her. His orgasms are powerful enough to make him shout her name and moan uncontrollably. He can't get enough of her voice screaming his name as she comes. He will spend a lot of time telling her exactly how and what he's feeling at that moment, complimenting her and encouraging her to be even louder.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Threesomes are something Garreth would love to try with MC. The gender of the third person matters very little; whether the two invite Sebastian, Ominis, Poppy, Amit, Leander, or someone else, it doesn’t matter to Garreth; he’s going to have a good time no matter what. He hopes that whoever they invite will join him in giving MC an overwhelming amount of pleasure—but he also wouldn't mind a bit of attention, himself.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Garreth has a slightly muscular build by nature. He stands at 170cm (5’7”—tall for the 1890s) and has freckles on almost every part of his body. He hopes MC is especially endeared to the freckles on his stomach. His ass is the perfect size and shape for grabbing at any time, according to him. He is about 16.5cm (6.5") erect and he is quite girthy.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Garreth's sex drive could be considered above average. He hopes to make love to MC at least a few times a week and enjoys initiating. If MC initiates, he's extremely excited. Neither freezing winter nor scorching summer will deter Garreth from a good time with MC. The only things that might decrease or discourage his sex drive is if he has been exhausted over a long period of time or if he and MC are having an argument. He will feel a bit shy around her until they can resolve their conflict, but once they do, he's more than happy to have make-up sex.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Garreth will use sheer willpower to overcome sleep until MC falls asleep. He has never once been the one to fall asleep first after they've had sex. He wants to always be sure she's safe and happy before falling asleep himself. If something is troubling her, he wants to do his best to reassure her or soothe her until they can address her worries at a better time. A little back rub, massaging her hands or feet, or just whispering sweet nothings to her until she falls asleep are all methods in his arsenal to ensure she drifts off with a smile on her face. His worst fear is the idea of MC not feeling completely safe and at ease around him, and he will do everything in his power to make her happy.

#hogwarts legacy #garreth weasley #garreth weasley smut #garreth x mc #weasley wednesday #headcanons

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averagewriter-inthedark · 1 year

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How they react to you getting hurt 🥲 | IB headcanon

Link to my IB masterlist

Requested 📨 yes/no

Content warnings: injury, blood, war, profanity, light angst.

Being part of the Basterds & getting injured would look like:

Getting injured was not something you planned, but in war it is bound to happen eventually. It could happen when y’all were ambushed, on recon, or something simple as moving place to place.

Whether it be a small graze, a split lip, or a possible fatal wound the Basterds are losing their mind. It would be utter chaos in the tent with Wicki having to kick them all out, besides Alsdo, so he could work with a clear mind. If it was a small injury that could be fixed with some bandages and alcohol then he’d be like “you lot are so dramatic. Just calm down they’re going to be fine.” But if it was serious then the last thing the man needed was panic around him, “if you all can’t shut the fuck up then get out! I need to concentrate before they bleed out!” Wicki cared deeply for you and felt responsible. He’d be dammed if you died on his watch.

Aldo would remain calm but internally was on high alert. You were one if the best Basterds and quite literally the glue that kept them together. In a shitshow of a world you still managed to smile, brining a level of hope and optimism to the squad. Seeing you in pain pulled at his heartstrings. Best believe he would stop at nothing to avenge you if worst comes to worst.

Donny would be in the same boat as Aldo, but would be more visibly anxious and pacing back and forth until he got an update. Like Aldo he’d set the world on fire to avenge you if you died. Donny is the bastard who’d try to make you laugh when you’re recovering which would only make the pain worse. “Oh sorry, I forgot you’re hurting there.”

Hugo is scary. Bottom line he is not talking, he is barely moving. It would not be until he knew you’d be okay that he would visibly relax. If the person who hurt you was still breathing Hugo would be silently plotting. The bastard would be the type to sneak out of camp and track the person himself. God forbid you died because you were the one thing keeping him grounded (platonically) so if he lost you….well pray for those who come in his way.

The younger basterds are losing their minds. Scared shirtless the only thing their minds go to is the worst. Smitty is holding back tears, Omar is biting his nails. They’d be camping outside the tent to hear what was going on and would fall on their asses when Aldo or Wicki were to suddenly come out. “Are they gonna be okay!?” They shout simultaneously, anxious at the sight of blood on Wicki. When the older man lit a cigarette and mumbled, “They’re gonna be fine. They just need to rest,” they all dropped to the floor in relief.

It would pain the basterds to have to send you home if the injury you sustained put you out of the line of duty. This wold be if you lost a limb or were in need of more medical attention than they could offer, such as losing your sight or part of your hearing. Aldo would be the one to escort you to allied territory to hand you over, the ride solemn and silent. “I’m sorry, boss,” you softly said., “I’m sorry I let you down.” “Kid, you’re alive. That’s all that matters and don’t you fuckin’ forget it. I’d rather be takin’ ya back breathin’ than in a casket.”

If your injury was not fatal and a quick fix, expect a small lecture from Aldo. He wouldn’t be upset with you per say, but just angry that it happened. Again, you are someone he cares about. All the Basterds do. So when shit like that happens it scares them and never did they wanna deal with having to bury someone they cared about. He would, however, scold you if the reason you got hurt was because you did something stupid or went against his orders. “L/n, I will warn you this one time. You pull that shit again and I’ll have your ass on the next truck back to base. Understood?”

At the end of the day the boys are just happy you’re okay. It was a close call but thankfully you survived and Wicki was the one with the brains to help you recover. They may have shit their pants and nearly went into cardiac arrest, but the basterds wouldn’t be losing their sunshine anytime soon.

#inglorious basterds #inglourious basterds headcanons #inglorious basterds imagine #inglorious basterds x reader #aldo raine x reader #aldo raine headcanon #donny donowitz imagine #donny donowitz x reader #donny donowitz #Donny donowitz headcanon #wilhelm wicki headcanon #wilhelm wicki imagine #wilhelm wicki #wilhelm wicki x reader #hugo stiglitz imagine #hugo stiglitz #Hugo Stiglitz headcanon #smithson utivich

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bunji-enthusiast · 6 months

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Skyscrapin’ Hell - Toji Fushiguro

• Sypnosis || A selfish man doing his final requiem.

• Warnings || none, completely sfw.. and short

• Note || part 2 to this post here. Someone asked for one, and I’d thought… why not? So here’s my very messy attempt, and hoping it makes sense.

He couldn’t remember the last time that moments could feel so sincere, strangely soothing in a sense that it can bring peace to even the most difficult and mundane of souls. To be able to walk the path of a hell that he just simply saw through with ease was a simple deterrent to his goal.

Killing every sorcerer he came across.

But even then, a man such as himself would be a troubled one. There was always some sort of trouble creeping up upon the innocuous fissures that remained.

Truly no one person can ever be innocent, in some way. The world will inevitably influence them, shape them to become powerful people — for better or worse.

Morals that are preordained, genetic influence. Somehow there is always something behind your existence, your own beliefs.

It’s a true and terrible power, so may it be that it wouldn’t be too far fetched that a man once deemed the Sorcerer Killer, had truly left everything behind.

Something that no other sorcerer, could obtain to the likes. How it would work, is a very ornate and unique design. Even the most skilled of sorcerers, such as Gojo Satoru himself - couldn’t free himself.

It’s far fetched, as few would call it, those few being far into the depths of the Jujustu world could truly understand it best. Even those with 100% sealed energies.

You simply were one enigma that Toji couldn’t fully comprehend.

“You could be a little nicer, Y’know?” You grinned at him, flickering a short frown upon doing so. His eyes closed for a short moment, revealing them to be normal. Not as they were black sclera a few mere seconds before.

Toji coughed, a low forbearance of a rasp beneath the surface of his words. “You’ve never lost your stance.”

A praise, just barely. A few words short of what he truly had hoped to speak, but this form he lived and breathed in would not allow him the luxury.

Not likely he had ever deserved to be besieged such a luxury in any possible sense, that he understood well enough. “Yet it seems you’re being hunted.”

Toji took a step toward you, curling a finger in the locks of your hair. His expression was unmistakably soft, yet unreadable. “Not long for me anyway, not gonna be here any longer.”

“You don’t plan on staying?”

A curl of his scarred lips had told you his answer, he had looked for fun, and he wasn’t afraid of being seen or restraining his own efforts. The strength he held as being a man living in a world he had made his mark in, Zenin.. or Fushiguro.

“You remember.. back then?” You looked up at Toji, whom took a significant step backwards from you — it was as if he was afraid of hurting you with his mere touch once more. You could only imagine the things he was thinking.

With a very slight nod, you could only chew on your lip. Trying to keep your emotions from going askew wasn’t an easy or ideal thing to be doing.

What is it that was done?

Yes, trying to keep your emotions at bay. All because of a stupid, stupid man whose words reeled you in. His touch, his warmth. Lacking a sense of self and integrity. Yet you couldn’t help but still yearn for it, to want it regardless.

Toji looked at you still, stone-cold eyes beginning to soften the more he looked at your every being. Every inch of your skin, what callouses you have. It told him everything about you.

Always reading you like an open book.

Time never had liked him, but he had made sure to make time in this way. To recover one sense of peacefulness in mind and body that Toji could remain content with.

“Relinquishing everything, to leave it all behind.”You spoke with an ounce of hesitation, crossing your arms to force yourself to stand straight. Since the mess in Shibuya had arisen, you couldn’t find a moments time of peace to rest. “You had always done it the best, yet you would never admit this.”

Toji once again had to think, your words weren’t wrong. But he never was one for morality or justice, just to getting through life. That he had done.

But in his own undoing, he had been clouded, so carefully blinded by his own actions.

Terrible actions sometimes lead to his fortunes, his son and you. Now, he was reprimanding himself for it once and for all.

“Survival,” Toji wolfishly grinned, baring an uncanny resemblance to a wolf. “Is what always befitted you.”

Toji didn’t mind doing something so fun in the least, to make it his final time.

#toji x y/n #jujutsu toji #jjk toji #toji x you #jujutsu kaisen toji #toji fushiguro #toji zenin #toji x reader #Toji angst??

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fandomgirlz01 · 1 year

Text

It’s Me And You Forever Pt. 9

Jason Scott x Reader

Prompt?: No

Request?: No

Requested prompt?: No

Edited: Yes

Word count: 5,032

Ko-fi

Masterlist

Warnings Here

You can listen to the story be read out loud here. {Coming soon}

Post Date: June 6th 2023

Post Time: 11:10 pm

Summary: Jason Scott and his childhood best friend have a rough time after an accident, but as they start to recover they meet four other troubled teens. Together the six go on a journey they never thought possible. They all band together as the power rangers to stop Angel Grove’s {and the world’s} destruction. Will they all find the destiny that was chosen for them? More importantly, what happens with y/n and Jason throughout this time?

Author's Note: I’ve decided that for my New Years resolution I’d learn Italian. With that being said I decided to try and add some into the story. So I used my translator on my phone for some of the Italian in here. I am in no way shape or form fluent in Italian yet, but I hope to be eventually. If you guys see anything wrong with my Italian I am so so sorry and we are not trying to offend or anything. We just thought it’d be cute if the reader had some Italian background.

Also we now have voting open for Jason snippets!!! You can vote here. Please please please go vote and let us know what you want to see! Now please enjoy the chapter.

Jason’s Pov:

The girl in yellow gets dragged from her hiding spot, kicking and screaming. She gets dragged halfway down the hall and I fight my instinct to keep y/n away instead of deciding to rush in to help.

“Didi, I’m coming!” Zack yells out as he jumps out of his hiding spot before I even have a chance.

Her screams come to a stop and she looks at what looks like a robot in front of her. She stares at it in shock as it bends down to her.

“You’re real!” It exclaims in excitement before standing up straight when it hears Zack yelling.

Zack lets out a primal yell as he runs at the little red and silver robot, but the robot's arm extends like it did when grabbing the girl in yellow. The robot grabs Zack by the throat and throws him behind it. I rush out along with Kimberly and Billy before coming to a stop in front of the thing.

“We will kill you,” I warn the robot in hopes it’ll deter it from fighting.

“Kill me? How?” It asks, gesturing with its weird arms as it talks and shakes its head in disbelief.

“There’s six of us,” Kimberly states hesitatingly from beside me, trying to help.

“Yes, I know! I’ve been waiting for you,” the robot speaks as it throws his arms out.

“Wait, there’s two missing. Where’s the other guy and girl?” It questions as it looks at all of us.

“One, two, three, four…” the robot counts us out in confusion.

“Oh! There he is!” It exclaims as it shoots its arm out and pulls a screaming Zach over to us.

“Now, where is number six…?” it questions, looking around again as Zach steadies himself.

“Ahh, there she is,” the robot comments and its arm shoots out to y/n, who’s still practically catatonic.

He pulls her over and she stumbles so I quickly catch her. She leans into me and I pull her a little closer -as close as I physically can in hopes of protecting her better- as I quickly look her over to make sure the thing didn’t hurt her. Once I’m sure she’s ok, I look back up at the robot.

“All of you,” the robot says as it motions to us.

“In a spaceship buried underground? How long have you been waiting?” Billy asks in pure confusion as we all continue to keep our guards up.

“What’s today?” the robot throws his hands up again.

“Monday?” it asks with his head tilting ever so slightly as he gets a little closer.

We all instinctively move back a step and I make sure I’m more in front of y/n. Billy gives a small ‘yeah’ as confirmation to the robot’s question and I keep up my ready to fight stance with my one hand that’s not holding onto y/n.

“Then 65 million years,” the robot explains, making me and Billy look at one another.

“I’ve been very lonely,” the robot dramatically tells us after it lets out a sound that sounds like a sigh.

“You’re all so young looking,” the robot says in excitement before moving forward again, making us all quickly jump back away from it.

“This has to do with the coins?” I ask as I look at the robot in confusion.

“Yes, yes, the coins!” the robot exclaims as he throws his arms in the air.

“Different colors… different kids. Different colored kids,” he explains as he motions from right to left.

“I’m so excited you’re here!” it shouts as it jumps with its arms extending out just a bit at us again and we all shrink back in fear with gasps.

“Turn around…” it tells us as it motions with its hand.

We all watch the robot as it snaps its arms back into place and we all jump a little. We continue to stare at it as if we’re frozen.

“Go on,” it tells us as it throws its head lightly to the side.

Slowly we all turn around together only to be in awe once again. We look out over a small balcony at what seems to be a big TV-like screen with a glowing force in the middle of six platforms.

“No way…” I murmur in awe of the place.

“Proceed,” the robot speaks up from behind us.

Together we all start to head down the stairs, Kimberly and Zack go down before me. I stop for a moment and look down at y/n, who’s still wrapped around me. She slowly blinks and I smile.

“There we go. Come on, pretty girl. You’re all good,” I whisper as she blinks some more, but still hasn’t fully come out of it so I opt to just pull her along with me.

“Think this’ll work,” the robot mutters from behind Kimberly and Zack.

I follow Billy and the girl in yellow down the other steps on the other side. I gently pull y/n with me and it’s like she’s here, but not quite all the way with us, still frozen in fear.

“One, two, three, four, five, six. Different colors,” the robot continues to mutter as we get about halfway down the stairs.

“Guys, let’s focus on getting out of here,” Kimberly whispers loudly as we continue down the steps.

“Stay together, and then when we see a chance-” Kimberly continues on as we hit the bottom of the stairs.

“We run like hell,” the girl in yellow states, cutting Kimberly off.

“Okay… if we don’t get a chance?” I skeptically ask as we all come to a stop in front of the center that’s a glowing force of some kind.

“Then we kill it,” Zack comments and I look at him, but move my eyes when a small squeak comes from y/n.

I quickly look her over and now it’s like she’s waking up. She blinks and when she sees me, she instantly wraps her arms around me. I smile a little as I wrap my arm back around her shoulder and hold her closer, the feeling of instant relief washing over me.

“Welcome back, pretty girl,” I mutter as I leave a kiss on her forehead as comfort.

“Shouldn’t hurt, but let’s see,” the robot talks to itself as it stops on the other side of the platform.

“Please, step into the footprints,” it asks us as it motions to all the platforms.

We all look at each other in confusion and I feel y/n’s arms tighten around my middle. I gently squeeze her shoulder to let her know I’m there as I look at the others.

“No. We are not going to do that,” I whisper out to them and they all seemingly agree with me.

“Hey, question,” Billy speaks up, lifting his arm to get the robot’s attention before putting it back down.

“Um, what are you?” he asks and we all look at the robot.

“I’m Alpha 5, an alphormic lorcaid persona android,” the robot explains with his voice going out at the end.

“What?” I ask in confusion with furrowed eyebrows.

“He said he’s an Alpha 5…” Billy starts, but I hold a hand out to him.

“Yeah, I know,” I tell him and he nods before turning back to look at the robot.

“I’m a talking robot. You can trust me,” Alpha 5 tells us, its voice lowering to a whisper at the end as it holds out its hands in an open manner. Its eyes make a weird blink motion and I hear a scoff of disbelief from y/n, making me look down at her.

“Yeah, cause it’s definitely ok to trust a talking robot. Can’t see how that’ll end badly,” she says quietly, rolling her eyes and I hold back a laugh.

It then goes quiet for a moment and we all think it over. I see movement out of the corner of my eye, making me turn to see Billy stepping onto one of the platforms.

“Billy!” I whisper-shout at him, but he keeps moving.

He steps up on to the small platform before tapping a foot on it. It makes a ding sound and a dust-like substance flies up from the platform. Billy looks down at the platform in awe before taking a small leap with his eyes closed.

When nothing happens, he opens his eyes and looks at us. He laughs lightly and looks back down at where he’s standing before looking back up again. He then waves his hand at us in excitement.

I feel y/n let go of me and I immediately reach for her, but she avoids my grip and walks over to a platform of her own. Next, Zack turns and looks at us for a moment.

“What the hell,” he says with a shrug before he steps up onto a platform too.

“Okay…” the girl in yellow whispers out as she and Kimberly simultaneously agree before walking to their own.

I start to walk over to the last one between Kimberly and y/n as the girl in yellow and Kimberly step up onto theirs. As I make it about halfway, y/n smiles at me and nods.

“Why do you keep looking at each other? Is that, like, a human thing? Fascinating,” Alpha 5 asks as Kimberly and the girl in yellow keep eye contact the whole time they step up.

The girl in yellow takes one last deep breath before both her and Kimberly nod to each other. Y/n finally fully steps up onto hers as I slowly reach mine. She watches me with a smile and I look at her one last time for confirmation that I should do it.

She nods at me and with one last deep breath, I step up onto mine. As soon as I do, there’s an explosion of light that starts from the middle and works its way out around all of us. At first we all jump to cover our faces, but we quickly adjust to the light and lower our arms.

“Oh, it’s working! This is great! It’s working!” Alpha 5 shouts out in excitement as he dances around and I hear y/n let out a giggle.

There’s a surge of power and the whole room starts to shake as the wall behind me seems to start moving. We all instantly crouch to the floor and reach for anything to stable ourselves as the shaking continues. Instantly, I look over at y/n to make sure she’s ok, but her eyes are wide.

At first I think she’s looking at me, but I quickly realize her eyes are trained behind me. I turn around and my own eyes widen when I see the clear outline of a face coming out of the wall.

“Zordon, are you there? Zordon!” Alpha 5 yells out as he walks closer to the wall.

The head coming from the wall speaks a weird alien language as it seems to be looking around frantically. Alpha 5 talks back to it with wild arm motions in the same language. They have a conversation in the language for a few minutes as we all continue to try and get grounded from the continual shaking.

“Okay, okay,” I whisper out as I take a quick look back at the face before turning to look at y/n again.

I quickly jump off the pedestal and rush over to the girl in yellow. Out of the corner of my eye, I catch y/n jump off after me and rush over as I pull the girl in yellow up off of hers. Y/n grabs my hand and I pull her with me.

“Come on,” I tell her as we start to run off.

I feel a tug on my arm and turn back to see y/n. She’s looking at Billy, who seems to be frozen on the ground still.

“Jay. He’s in shock,” she tells me and I nod.

“Go with the others. I’ve got him,” I tell her as I pull her around in front of me and push her lightly towards Kimberly.

“Come on! Let’s go! Move!” I yell as I grip onto Billy and pull him up, snapping him out of his shock.

I run towards the group with Billy hot on my heels and y/n holds her hand out to me when I get closer. Together we all run back up the steps and towards the door, but come to a stop when the door closes us in. Billy knocks on it and the head in the wall keeps talking in the alien language.

“Still think it was a good idea to investigate, J?” Y/n sarcastically asks, rolling her eyes.

“So not the time, sweetheart,” I whisper back and she just shrugs.

I feel y/n squeeze my hand and I squeeze hers back as we all slowly realize we’re not leaving. We all stand there, breathing hard for a few minutes before finally Alpha 5 speaks up.

“Come forward, please?!” he yells out to us and Kimberly sighs.

youtube

“Do we have a choice?” she asks in irritation and again I feel y/n squeeze my hand.

“Don’t think so,” I hesitantly reply with a sigh as I squeeze y/n’s hand back again.

Alpha 5 says something else in the alien language as we all slowly turn around. We slowly walk back down the stairs.

“Look! It’s Zordon!” Alpha 5 shouts as we start down the stairs. “Zordon, they don’t know who you are,” Alpha 5 states as he turns back to the head in the wall and we get about halfway down the stairs.

“Come in! Come in!” he again shouts as he turns back to us and motions us to him.

“These are them? They’re so small, especially the one next to red,” Zordon seems to observe and I feel y/n sink back a bit.

Once again, I squeeze her hand and she looks up to me. I give her a small nudge like I normally do when she gets insecure about her height. I mean, she’s not overly short, just a little shorter than me and maybe a little bit shorter than Billy. It’s just something she gets insecure of sometimes, but she knows she’s not as short as people make her believe. I’ve had to remind her many times that she’s the perfect height and not to worry about what others say, but sometimes I know she definitely still thinks about it.

“Funny, I said the same thing, actually,” Alpha 5 agrees with the head in the wall.

“You mean to tell me that the fate of the universe is placed in the hands of these— these children?” Zordon asks as he turns to look at all of us before moving farther down the wall.

“The universe? That’s a big place,” Billy mumbles to himself and I see y/n smile softly at him when he catches her watching him.

“They’re teenagers! Somewhere between infancy and full maturity. It’s hard to explain, really. I don’t—” Alpha 5 starts to explain, but Zordon cuts him off.

“Show me the coins,” Zordon demands before again sliding across the wall to me, y/n and Billy.

I reach down, pulling my coin out as does y/n and Billy. Together, we all hold them up to Zordon.

“The morphing grid is never wrong. If the power coins have returned to the ship with these…” Zordon starts, but pauses.

“Teenagers!” Alpha 5 shouts, filling it in for him.

“With these teenagers,” Zordon repeats in annoyance.

“Then these teenagers are the power rangers,” Zordon says doubtfully as he clearly rolls his eyes.

“Power rangers!” Alpha 5 exclaims as he puts his head down and does a victory motion with his arms.

I put my coin away in my pocket as Billy claps in excitement. I let out a chortle and shake my head in amusement at his excitement. Y/n lets out a small giggle as she also shakes her head, a small smile gracing her face.

“What?” The girl in yellow whispers out as she looks at Kimberly.

“Okay, quick question,” Zack is the first to speak up as he steps back up onto the ramp of his pedestal.

“Hello. Hate to interrupt. Did I just hear you say we’re power rangers?” Zack continues as he fully stops at the end of his pedestal.

“Yes,” Zordon starts before once again he’s sliding down the wall to look at Zack.

“Yes. You are the power rangers. Any other questions?” Zordon confirms what he said as he stops.

“No, I think I’m good,” Zack tells him and Zordon replies with a firm ‘good.’

“I got a question,” Billy quickly thinks out loud.

“Um… hi, how, you doing?” Billy speaks as he raises his hand before stepping off his pedestal as Zordon slides across the wall again.

I turn to look over my left shoulder at him and y/n turns over her right. I then quickly spin back around as he stops behind me to look up at Zordon. I look back at y/n, who now has her arms crossed and she gives me a shrug.

“Oh, okay— um, my name is Billy. Billy Cranston. Kids used to call me billy crams-tons—” Billy starts to ramble and I feel y/n nudge me with her shoulder.

“Billy!” I call out to him and he turns to look at me and y/n.

“Stop,” I tell him in a whisper as I hold my hand out.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers to me before turning back to Zordon.

“Uh… the images here in this sphere tell a history of the power rangers. Looks like the power rangers were a team that protected life,” Billy explains as he looks at the glowing center between all the pedestals, making us all look at it with him.

I hear a small gasp and look down at y/n to see awe on her face. I chuckle lightly before squeezing her hand, making her look at me. She gives me a tight-lipped smile before looking back at the moving colors.

“And life is a bright light. Or a piece of light?” Billy finally asks his question before turning back to look at Zordon.

“Yes. Yes, very good, Billy,” Zordon praises and we all turn to look at Zordon.

“It is called the Zeo Crystal,” Zordon starts to explain, taking a pause.

“Oh, I love this part. This is good,” Alpha 5 exclaims as he leans back in excitement before standing straight and walking closer to the glowing center.

“And every planet in the universe that has life has a piece of the crystal inside it,” Zordon continues to explain as we all look back into the glowing center.

“Sixty-five million years ago, Zordon’s Team died defending the crystal here in what is now Angel Grove,” Alpha 5 adds on as he points up at Zordon, then back at the center.

“The coins have chosen you five,” Zordon proclaims and I feel y/n squeeze my hand again, making me well aware that her fear is rising even more, so I squeeze hers back.

“Yes! I knew it!” Alpha 5 yells out as he fist bumps the air.

“Now you must protect the Zeo Crystal and life on earth,” Zordon tells us and I arch an eyebrow.

“Because… we… are the power rangers?” I ask in confusion and alpha 5 turns to Zordon.

“He’s smart!” Alpha 5 exclaims and y/n lets out a breathy giggle, making me look down at her. She shrugs, trying to hide a massive grin.

“Well, he’s not wrong…” she whispers out to me, wiggling her eyebrows at me and I shake my head, trying not to laugh.

Kimberly’s scoff pulls us both out of our little moment and we both turn to watch as she takes a step forward. She raises her hand, but puts it right back down.

“I’m sorry, um, is this some kind of joke?” she asks and out of the corner of my eye, I see y/n roll her eyes.

“Like, I’m standing here with a wet wedgie. My socks are soaked. We’re squishing around in here. We’re talking to a wall! I mean, guys… ” Kimberly starts to freak out a little bit and again, y/n rolls her eyes.

“Silence!” Zordon yells out and suddenly the whole room is a bright white.

We all go flying off our feet and I try to keep a grasp on y/n’s hand, but somehow we lose each other's hold. I freak out a moment, trying to locate her before I’m suddenly waking up on the couch of the living room of my house. I blink and for a split moment it’s utter quiet.

I sit up and look around, confused and feeling an absolute dread falling over me. It stays quiet, but I find myself getting up and walking to the front door that’s slightly ajar. It creaks as the air gently pushes it and I reach down to the handle.

I pull it open and find myself in downtown Angel Grove as I walk out the door. I find myself in the middle of the road, but everything seems desolate and eerily quiet.

“Dig! Dig, Goldar!” I hear a whisper that makes me turn to look behind me, but nothing is there, just road and more Angel Grove.

I turn back around and just as I do, there seems to be some explosion in front of me. There’s a green light and smoke before suddenly everything changes. It’s now all gray and people are screaming.

I look to the side and see what seems to be statues of frozen people. I realize they’re all people I know, like dozens of statues before suddenly there’s a person in green right in my face. I move back a bit, but she stays there.

Suddenly she starts making ragged breathing noises and it feels like all the air is being taken from my lungs. Pain is all I feel for a few minutes and she reaches out for me. I then push myself back and my arms hit the statues, making them dissolve into dust.

Then before I know it, I’m back in the ship and falling to the ground. We all fall to the ground and I let out a few coughs as my mind tries to come back. I hear another groan that pulls me out of my own pain and I turn to find y/n laying on her stomach.

She groans as she moves to her back and I slowly slide over to her. I look at her for a moment, silently asking if she’s ok. She lets a tear roll down her cheek before nodding slowly. I sigh and lay my head back on the ground.

I feel her hand come closer and grip onto mine. I grip onto hers right back as we both still try to recover from the blow of the landing.

“Sir. I’m detecting elevated heart rates. They’re— they’re very scared,” Alpha 5 observes and I roll over, trying to get up.

“I don’t understand,” I say as I am finally able to stand back up.

“Why would you show us that nightmare?” I ask as I start walking over to Zordon.

Y/n reaches out to me, but pulls her hand back with a hiss before just letting me go.

“It’s not a nightmare. It’s the future,” Zordon answers as all the others stand now too.

“Was that for real?” Kimberly quietly and breathlessly asks as she looks at the girl in yellow.

“Felt like it,” the girl in yellow tells her.

“And who was that woman?” I ask just before coming to a stop.

“Sir? I believe Orange has a broken rib,” Alpha 5 interrupts, making us all turn to see him looking at y/n.

I see y/n still on the ground and my heart leaps into my chest as I rush back over to her. She groans as I quickly pull her into a seated position.

“My bad. I didn’t realize she’d fall on her stomach. She should heal fine, but Alpha, give her a scan just to be sure,” Zordon tells Alpha 5, who nods before walking over to y/n, but I stop him, holding out a hand.

“She’s not going anywhere without me,” I say in a threatening tone and Alpha 5 shakes his head as he flicks his wrist.

“No need. I can do the scan right here,” he tells me and with a little nod, I let him continue over to us.

He scans her and she lets out a few coughs, but nonetheless seems absolutely fine. Once he’s done scanning her, he looks at her.

“You should be 100% healed, in… I’d say an hour tops,” Alpha 5 tells her and she nods, even though her face shows pure shock.

“Wanna stand?” I ask her and she hesitantly nods before grabbing onto the hand I have held out to her.

I gently help her stand and as we do, she keeps a death-like grip on my hand. Once fully standing, she grimaces for a moment before nodding at me. I keep a hold of her and like she reads my mind, walks with me back over to Zordon.

“Ok. You were saying?” I ask as I look back up to Zordon.

“Her name is Rita Repulsa. She will create Goldar, a huge monster who will rip the crystal from the earth, and all life on your planet will die. With the Crystal, Rita will have the power to create and destroy worlds,” Zordon explains and y/n lets out a breath of shock.

“Wow, way to scare us into being these… power rangers,” y/n sarcastically says with a roll of her eyes.

“So, let me guess. You want us to kill this woman? R— Rita?” The girl in yellow asks and I turn back to look at her.

“Ay, ay, ay! Rita,” Alpha 5 corrects her as he puts his hands to his head like he’s pinching his nose in disapproval.

“She must be stopped,” Zordon adds in a solemn tone and I feel y/n shiver lightly.

“When is she coming?” Kimberly asks, looking at Zordon with a look of disbelief.

“She’s already here. My best guess is we have 11 months. Oh, I’m sorry, days. Days, 11 days,” Alpha 5 changes his estimate as he flings his hands up, then back down.

“If we’re the Power Rangers and this is our ship, if I walk through that door right now, will it open for me?” The girl in yellow asks in a scarcely even tone after she huffs.

“Yes, of course,” Zordon answers without hesitation and I turn to look at her.

“Let’s go,” the girl in yellow says before her and Kimberly turn and start to run.

“Whoa. What are you doing? No, no, no come back!” Alpha 5 shouts, reaching out as all of the others except me and y/n run out of the room.

I look at Zordon before taking a step back and starting to walk away. Y/n follows, still keeping a hold of my hand as we walk back to the stairs.

“No, no, please don’t leave,” Alpha 5 begs us as he takes a few steps behind us.

“Jason, my ranger team died defending the crystal from Rita. That’s why I’m in this wall,” Zordon appeals to me and I turn back to him.

“How’d you know my name?” I ask him as I look up at him.

“Because it’s you, Jason Scott. You are the leader. You are the Red Ranger,” Zordon tells me and the light behind us changes, making me turn to look at it.

I watch in awe as the red ranger in the middle does a cool spin-around move. It then changes to the green ranger.

“Rita was a ranger, too. And my friend. But she betrayed us. Wanted more power. She lost her way. Now she is just pure evil,” Zordon explains as I watch the green ranger in the center before turning to him again.

“But nobody’s pure evil. Did you try appealing to her? Maybe reminding her of what you guys once were?” Y/n asks as she turns to him and Zordon sighs, giving her a sad look.

“We tried everything we could think of. Still, she let the power go right to her head,” he tells y/n with a sigh and I turn back to the glowing force.

“That’s so sad…” y/n tells him and Zordon gives a hum of agreement.

“Believe me. I would have done anything and everything to save Rita,” he tells her and she sniffles, but I know she’s holding her tears back even without having to look at her.

“You must bring them back. All of the rangers. You must train your team to stop Rita before she has the strength to find the crystal,” Zordon urges me and I shake my head.

“Okay. We’re leaving,” I reply as I put my hands up before starting to back away.

“And I only speak for myself and this one here—” I start as I point to y/n.

“No! You speak for all of them. You know that deep down what I’m saying is true. You were born for this,” Zordon says and I stop halfway to look back at him.

“Y/n, you comin?” I ask her when I realize she’s not walking with me.

She keeps her stare up at Zordon and he gives her a look that I can’t exactly read cause he’s a wall. She nods at him before turning slowly to me and grabbing my hand. She looks up at me and I smile softly at her before grabbing her hand.

Together, we walk out of the main room and down the first few halls we were first in. Soon before we know it, we’re back in the cave headed towards the water that brought us here.

To Be Continued…

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